The  gride's  Fate 


ISMSi-SOUTHWORTH 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  BRIDE'S  FA  TE 


The  Sequel  to  "  The  Changed  Brides  " 


By 

MRS.  E.  D.  E.  N.  SOUTHWORTH 

AUTHOR    OF 

:A    Leap    in    the    Dark,"     "The    Lost    Lady    of   Lone,'* 

"Nearest    and    Dearest,"     "Her    Mother's   Secre*. ''' 

"A  Beautiful  Fiend,"  "Victor's  Triumph,"  Etc. 


/  have  set  my  life  upon  a  cast, 

And  I  will  abide  the  hazard  of  the  die. 

— SHAKESPEARE. 


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By  MRS.  E.  D.  E.  N.  SOUTHWORTH 

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Beautiful  Fiend,  A 
Brandon  Coyle's  Wife 

Sequel  to  A  Skeleton  in  the  Closet 
Bride's  Fate,  The 

Sequel  to  The  Changed  Brides 
Bride's  Ordeal,  The 
Capitola's  Peril 

Sequel  to  the  Hidden  Hand 
Changed  Brides,  The 
Cruel  as  the  Grave 
David  Lindsay 

Sequel  to  Gloria 
Deed  Without  a  Name,  A 
Dorothy  Harcourt's  Secret 

Sequel  to  A  Deed  Without  a  Name 
"  Em  " 
Em  s  Husband 

Sequel  to  "Em" 
Fair  Play 
For  Whose  Sake 

Sequel  to  Why  Did  He  Wed  Her? 
For  Woman's  Love 
Fulfilling  Her  Destiny 

Sequel  to  When  Love  Commands 
Gloria 
Her  Love  or  Her  Life 

Sequel  to  The  Bride's  Ordeal 
Her  Mother's  Secret 
Hidden  Hand,  The 
How  He  Won  Her 

Sequel  to  Fair  Play 
Ishmael 

Leap  in  the  Dark,  A 
Lilith 

Sequel  to  the  Unlored  Wife 
Little  Nea's  Engagement 

Sequel  to  Nearest  and  Dearest 


Lost  Heir,  The 

Lost  Lady  of  Lone,  The 

Love's  Bitterest  Cup 

Sequel  to  Her  Mother's  Secret 
Mysterious  Marriage,  The 

Sequel  to  A  Leap  in  the  Dark 
Nearest  and  Dearest 
Noble  Lord,  A 

Sequel  to  The  Lost  Heir 
Self-Raised 

Sequel  to  Ishmael 
Skeleton  in  the  Closet,  A 
Struggle  of  a  Soul,  The 

Sequel  to  The  Lost  Lady  of  Lone 
Sweet  Love's  Atonement 
Test  of  Love,  The 

Sequel  to  A  Tortured  Heart 
To  His  Fate 

Sequel  to  Dorothy  Harcourt's 

Secret 
Tortured  Heart,  A 

Sequel  to  The  Trail  of  the  Serpent 
Trail  of  the  Serpent,  The 
Tried  for  Her  Life 

Sequel  to  Cruel  as  the  Grave 
Unloved  Wife,  The 
Unrequited  Love,  An 

Sequel  to  For  Woman's  Love 
Victor's  Triumph 

Sequel  to  A  Beautiful  Fiend 
When  Love  Commands 
When  Shadows  Die 

Sequel  to  Love's  Bitterest  Cup 
Why  Did  He  Wed  Her? 
Zenobia's  Suitors 

Sequel  to  Sweet  Love's  Atonement 


For  Sale  by  all  Booksellers  or  will  be  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price, 

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CONTENTS. 


OHAPTBR  PAG* 

I. — Unchanging  Love 5- 

II.— Calm  Delights 11 

III.— Surprises 17 

IV. — A  Messenger 25 

V.— Fortune 34 

VI.— Entertaining  Angels 40 

VII.— Halcyon  Days 51 

VIII.— The  End  of  Probation 59 

IX. —A  May-day  Marriage 66 

X.— General  Lyon's  Consolation 79 

v»  XI.— A  Joyous  Meeting  in  June 88 

JM          XII.— The  Mail-Bag 97 

XIII.— Old  and  New 102 

XIV.— Arrival 112 

XV.— The  Derby 133 

~         XVI.— The  Gipsies 147 

XVII.— How  the  Parted  Met 159 

CM       XVIII.— Waiting  and  Hoping 173 

XIX.— Meeting  Every  Day 184 

N  XX.— The  Ambassadress' Ball 191 

g          XXI.— Alexander's  Experience 207 

XXII.— The  Missing  Boy 227 

XXIII.-  -Alexander's  Jealousy 248 

j       XXIV. -The  Duel 256 

3          XXV.— The  Grand  Satisfaction 268 

t        XXVI.— The  Pursuit. 273 

XXVII.— The  Shock 288 

1     XXVIII.— Alexander  Strikes  a  Light 307 

XXIX.— Alexander's  Discoveries 315 

XXX.— Little  Lenny's  Enemy 324 

3         XXXI. -The  Abduction 339 

XXXII.— Little  Lenny's  Adventures 354 

XXXIII.— Lenny's  Experiences 369 

XXXIV.— The  Peace-offering 374 

XXXV.— The  Peace-offering.— Continued 386 


THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

UNCHANGING    LOVE. 

"  Kind  friends  may  be  to  thee, 
But  love  like  hers  thou'lt  see, 
Never  again." 

REST,  peace,  love,  comfort  were  now  Brasilia's  portions. 

It  was  a  new  experience  to  the  poor,  discarded,  and 
deposed  young  wife  to  find  herself  the  central  object  of 
interest  in  a  family  like  General  Lyon's,  her  health  and 
happiness  watched  over  and  provided  for  with  the  most 
affectionate  solicitude. 

She  had  not  a  care  in  the  world.  She  scarcely  had  a 
regret.  She  knew  the  worst.  She  knew  that  her  last 
act  had  banished  Alexander  from  her  side.  But  when 
she  looked  upon  her  boy's  face,  and  reflected  that  no  stig- 
ma now  rested  upon  his  baby  brow,  she  could  not  regret 
her  act.  With  the  child-like  simplicity  of  her  character, 
she  "accepted  the  situation." 

In  the  sunshine  of  this  sweet  old  home,  her  heart  ex- 
panded to  all  kindly  sympathies. 

She — the  orphan  girl,  who  had  never  been  blessed  by  a 
father's  tender  care,  deeply  responded  to  the  affection  be- 
stowed on  her  by  old  General  Lyon,  and  really  doted  on  the 
fine  veteran.  At  his  desire  she  called  him  uncle ;  but 
she  loved  him  as  a  father.  She  would  watch  and  listen 
for  his  footsteps,  in  his  daily  visit  to  her  sick  room ;  and 
she  would  kiss  and  fondle  his  aged  hands  and  then  lift  up 
her  boy  to  receive  his  blessing. 

5 


-6  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

And  often  on  these  occasions  the  veteran's  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  as  he  glanced  from  the  childish  mother  to  the 
•child,  and  murmured : 

"  Poor  children  !  poor  children !  while  I  live  you  shall 
be  my  children." 

Anna  was  not  less  kind  than  her  grandfather  to  Brasilia. 

And  she,  the  only  daughter,  who  had  never  before 
known  a  sister's  companionship,  loved  Miss  Lyon  with  a 
sister's  love,  and  delighted  in  her  cheerful  society. 

She  felt  friendly  towards  Dick,  and  was  very  fond  of 
the  attentive  old  servants.  Indeed,  her  loving,  sunny 
spirit  went  out  on  all  around  her. 

But  her  greatest  joy  was  in  her  child.  She  would 
soothe  him  to  sleep  with  the  softest,  sweetest  notes,  and 
after  laying  him  in  his  cradle,  she  would  kneel  and  gaze 
•on  his  sleeping  face  for  hours. 

Mammy  protested  against  this  idolatry ;  but  Brasilia 
answered  her : 

« It  is  not  idolatry,  nurse  ;  because  I  do  not  place  the 
.gift  before  the  Giver.  There  is  not  an  instant  in  my  life 
that  I  am  not  conscious  of  fervent  gratitude  to  the  Lord 
for  giving  me  this  child,  a  gift  forever  and  ever  ;  a  gift 
for  time  and  eternity ;  oh,  nurse,  a  gift,  of  which  nothing 
on  earth  or  in  Heaven  can  deprive  me  !  " 

"Don't  say  that,  ma'am;  the  Lord  might  take  the 
child,"  said  mammy,  solemnly. 

"  I  know  that,  nurse.  The  Lord  might  take  him  to 
Heaven,  to  save  him  from  the  evil  in  this  world ;  but  he 
would  be  safe  there,  for  the  Lord  would  take  care  of  him 
lor  me,  and  give  him  back  to  me  when  I  myself  should 
reach  the  Blessed  Land,"  she  answered,  reverently. 

And  mammy  had  nothing  more  to  say. 

How  closely  the  young  mother  watched  the  tiny  growth 
of  her  child,  and  the  faint  development  of  his  intelligence. 
She  could  see  progress  where  no  one  else  could  perceive 
the  slightest  sign  of  it.  She  discovered  that "  he  "  "  took 
notice,"  long  before  any  one  could  be  brought  to  acknowl- 
edge that  such  a  prodigy  was  possible.  Her  delight  when 
her  boy  first  smiled  in  his  sleep,  or  when  she  fancied  he 
•did,  was  something  almost  ludicrous.  She  was  kneeling 
by  his  cradle,  watching  his  slumbers  as  usual,  when  she 
-suddenly  cried  out,  though  hi  a  hushed  voice  : 


UNCHANGING  LOVE.  7 

"  Oh,  Anna !  Cousin  Anna  !  look  !  look  !  he  is  laughing, 
he  is  indeed  !  See  how  he  is  laughing  !  " 

Miss  Lyon  came  and  bent  over  the  cradle.  So  did 
mammy,  who  drew  back  again,  saying : 

"  Lor !  why  that  ain't  no  laugh,  ma'am  ;  that's  wind — 
leastwa}Ts,  it  is  a  grimace  caused  by  wind  on  the  stomach, 
and  I  must  give  him  some  catnip  when  he  wakes." 

Now,  if  Brasilia's  sweet  face  had  been  capable  of  ex- 
pressing withering  contempt  mammy  would  have  been 
shrivelled  up  to  a  mummy :  but  as  it  was  she  could  only 
appeal  from  the  nurse  to  Miss  Lyon. 

"  Anna,  look  at  him — he  is  laughing,  or,  at  the  very 
least,  smiling — is  he  not  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  darling,  he  is  certainly  smiling;  and  you 
know  the  old  folks  say  when  an  infant  smiles  in  its  sleep 
it  dreams  of  Heaven  and  sees  angels." 

"  And  I  do  believe  that  is  true — it  must  be  true  !  And 
my  little  cherub  sees  his  guardian  angels ! "  exclaimed 
Drusilla,  delightedly. 

"  I  tell  you,  ma'am,"  began  mammy,  "  it  is  nothing  but 
jest  win — Owtch  !  "  she  exclaimed,  suddenly  breaking  off 
as  Anna  trod  heavily  upon  her  corns." 

And  presently  mammy  limped  off  to  make  the  threat- 
ened catnip  tea,  leaving  the  two  young  women  to  the  en- 
joyment of  their  faith  in  the  sleeping  baby's  Heavenly 
visions. 

For  the  first  weeks  infants'  eyes  are  of  no  particular 
form,  color  or  expression,  but  merely  little  liquid  orbs 
folded  up  in  fat.  But  very  soon  Drusilla  made  very  great 
discoveries  in  her  infant's  eyes.  Sitting  alone  one  morn- 
ing, and  gazing  down  upon  the  babe  that  lay  smiling  on 
her  lap,  she  murmured  : 

u  Oh,  Alick,  Alick,  dear,  you  have  torn  yourself  away 
from  me,  and  have  gone.  But  you  could  not  deprive  me 
of  your  eyes,  my  Alick !  They  look  up  at  me  from  my 
baby's  face,  and  while  they  do  so  I  can  never  cease  to 
love  you  and  pray  for  you,  Alick,  my  Alick  !  " 

Since  his  desertion  this  was  the  only  occasion  upon 
which  she  had  ever  breathed  his  name,  and  even  now  it 
was  only  in  half  audible  murmurs  as  she  talked  to  her- 
self, or  to  her  babe. 

By  the  other  members  of  the  family,  Alexander's  name 


8  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

was  never  mentioned.  General  Lyon  had  given  no  orders 
to  this  effect,  but  the  subject  was  tacitly  dropped  by  all 
as  one  unspeakably  painful  and  humiliating. 

General  Lyon,  who  loved  the  delicate,  dove-eyed  little 
woman  with  a  fatherly  fondness,  would  not  let  her  confine 
herself  to  her  own  apartments  a  day  longer  than  was 
necessary.  He  first  of  all  wiled  her  down  to  the  afternoon 
tea,  and  then  after  a  few  days  coaxed  her  down  to  dinner  ; 
and  on  the  Sunday  folio  whig  sent  for  her  to  join  the 
family  circle  at  breakfast. 

The  w  family  circle  "  at  this  time  comprised  only  Gen- 
eral Lyon,  Anna,  Dick,  and  Brasilia. 

Dick  had  remained  at  Old  Lyon  Hall  ever  since  Alexan- 
der's exodus,  with  the  exception  of  one  day  when  he  rode 
over  to  Hammondville,  where  he  had  left  the  parson  and 
the  lawyer  to  tell  them  that  their  services  would  not  be 
required,  and  to  remunerate  and  dismiss  them. 

Since  that  day  Dick  had  made  a  clean  breast  of  it  to  his 
uncle  and  had  won  a  conditional  consent  to  his  marriage 
with  Anna  ;  the  engagement  being  encumbered  with  a 
probation  of  one  year. 

"  I  shall  be  an  old  maid  yet  if  I  live  long  enough,"  said 
Anna,  laughing  when  she  heard  from  Dick  of  this  decision. 
a  My  marriage  day  has  been  fixed  and  my  marriage  inter- 
rupted three  times  !  and  at  every  interruption  it  has  been 
deferred  for  one  yea,r,  only  to  be  interrupted  again  at  the 
end  of  it." 

"  I  don't  complain  of  all  other  interruptions,  but 
Anna,  let  us  make  sure  of  a  marriage  this  time  by  go- 
ing off  by  ourselves  and  getting  it  done,"  said  Anna's 
lover. 

"  For  shame,  Dick,"  was  all  the  answer  she  vouchsafed 
him 

"  We  are  of  age,"  urged  her  suitor. 

"  So  much  the  worse,  sir,  for  we  should  know  better," 
said  Anna. 

And  Dick  ceased  to  push  the  question. 

It  drew  near  the  Christmas  holidays,  and  the  weather 
was  very  fine  for  the  season. 

General  Lyon  invited  and  pressed  his  adopted  niece  to 
take  drives  in  the  picturesque  vicinity  of  the  hall. 

But  Drusilla  answered  that  she  wished  her  first  going 


UNCHANGING  LOVE.  9 

out  should  be  to  the  house  of  God,  in  acknowledgment 
of  His  great  mercy  in  preserving-her  and  her  child  amid 
so  many  dangers,  and  raising  up  to  them  such  dear 
friends. 

And  the  conscientious  old  soldier  could  urge  the  matter 
no  farther. 

One  Friday  morning  Anna  and  Drusilla  were  seated 
together  as  usual — the  baby  sleeping  in  the  cradle  between 
them — when  Anna  said  : 

"  Drusilla,  my  dear,  you  are  going  to  church  next  Sun- 
day?" 

"  Yes,  I  am ;  Providence  permitting,  Anna." 

"  Do  you  know  it  will  be  Christening  Sunday  ?  " 

«  No,  I  didn't,  Anna." 

"  Well,  it  will  be.  Now  wouldn't  you  like  to  have 
your  boy  christened  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  indeed  I  should,  bless  him !  " 

"  And  I  will  be  his  godmother,  and  grandpa  and  Dick 
shall  be  his  godfathers.  You  know,  being  a  boy,  he  will 
require  two  godfathers  and  one  godmother.  If  he  were  a 
girl,  the  matter  would  be  reversed.  Now  what  do  you 
say,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  I  thank  you  very  much,  dear  Anna,  for  your  kindness 
in  thinking  of  all  this.  And  I  shall  be  very  grateful  to 
you  and  dear  uncle  and  cousin  Dick  for  becoming  spon- 
sors for  my  darling  boy,"  said  Drusilla,  earnestly. 

"  And  the  christening  is  to  go  on  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  dear  Anna,  if  you  please." 

"  What  name  will  you  give  your  child  ?  " 

"  If  dear  uncle  consents  I  should  like  to  name  my 
boy  for  him — '  Leonard.' " 

"  And  not  Alick  ?  "  inquired  Anna. 

It  was  the  first  time  for  weeks  past  that  she  had  ut- 
tered his  name  ;  and  she  did  it  now  in  a  sort  of  triumph 
in  the  thought  that  his  discarded  wife  had  ceased  to  care 
for  him. 

"  And  not  Alick  ?  "  she  repeated,  seeing  that  Drusilla 
hesitated  to  answer. 

"  No,  not  Alick,"  the  young  mother  now  replied,  calmly 
and  gravely. 

"  That  is  right ;  I  am  glad  of  it !  Very  glad  of  it ! " 
exclaimed  Anna,  with  such  righteous  indignation  and 


10  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

exultation  combined  that  the  young  wife  looked  at  her 
in  surprise  and  sorrow. 

« I  think  you  mistake  me,  dear  cousin,"  she  said. 
«  The  only  reason  why  I  do  not  call  my  child  after  his 
father  is  this : — I  have  already  one  Alick,  but  one  Alick 
and  I  can  never  have  another.  I  cannot  even  bear  that 
my  child  should  have  his  name.  I  want  but  one  Alick 
in  the  whole  world. 

"  Goodness  knows,  I  think  one  of  that  sort  would  be 
quite  enough ! "  exclaimed  Anna. 

Drufsilla  looked  at  her  hi  gentle  reproach. 

"  Is  it  possible,  child,  that  you  still  love  that  scamp  ?  " 
scornfully  demanded  Miss  Lyon. 

"  Oh,  Anna  deur,  yes  !  He  used  to  love  me  too  ;  he  was 
very  kind  to  me,  from  the  days  when  I  was  a  poor  little 
sickly,  ignorant  girl,  till  within  a  short  time  ago.  Oh, 
Anna,  shall  the  madness  of  a  few  months  make  me  forget 
all  the  loving  kindness  of  many  long  years?  Never, 
Alick,  dear,  never,"  she  murmured,  dropping  her  voice  as 
in  soliloquy  ;  "  I  will  still  love  you  and  pray  for  you  and 
trust  in  you — for  I  know,  Alick,  dear — when  you  come  to 
yowrself  you  will  come  to  me.  I  can  wait  for  that  time." 

Anna  gazed  on  the  inspired  young  face  in  amazement 
that  gradually  gave  way  to  reverence,  and  even  to  awe. 

"  Drusilla,"  she  said,  solemnly,  "  I  retract  all  I  ever  said 
against  Alexander,  and  I  promise  never  to  open  my  lips 
to  his  prejudice  again." 

Drusilla  looked  up  gratefully  but — inquiringly. 

"  Your  eyes  thank  me,  but  you  wish  to  know  why  I  say 
this.  I  will  tell  you :  It  is  because  you  make  me  begin 
to  believe  in  that  man.  Your  faith  in  him  affects  me. 
There  must  be  some  great  reserve  of  good  somewhere  latent 
and  undeveloped  in  his  nature,  to  have  drawn  forth  such 
a  faith  as  yours.  But  were  he  the  greatest  sinner  that 
ever  darkened  the  earth,  such  love  as  yours  would  make 
him  sacred." 


CALM  DELIGHTS.  11 


CHAPTER  II. 

CALM    DELIGHTS. 

Now  has  descended  a  serener  hour, 
And  with  reviving  fortunes.— SHELLEY. 

THE  next  morning  Anna  entered  Drusilla's  room,  fol- 
lowed by  Matty,  bearing  a  large  work-basket  filled  with 
cambric  white  as  snow,  and  lace  as  fine  as  cobweb. 

"  Set  it  down  here  at  my  feet,  Matty,  and  go,"  said  Miss 
Lyon,  sinking  into  one  of  the  arm-chairs. 

Opposite  to  her  sat  Brasilia,  and  between  them,  of 
course,  lay  the  sleeping  babe  in  the  cradle. 

"  Here,  my  dear,"  said  Anna,  calling  the  young  mother's 
attention  to  the  contents  of  the  basket,  "  I  have  over- 
hauled all  my  bureaus  and  boxes  in  search  of  these  mater- 
ials; for  you  know  if  our  baby  is  to  be  christened  on 
Sunday  next  he  must  have  a  fine  robe,  and  you  and  I  must 
set  to  work  immediately  to  make  it." 

"  Oh,  thanks,  dear  Anna,  for  your  constant  thoughtful- 
ness  of  me  and  my  babe.  I  have  some  very  beautifully 
embroidered  robes  at  Cedar  Wood,  but  nurse  did  not  think 
it  necessary  to  bring  them,  and  I  have  none  here  but  very 
plain  white  slips,"  said  Brasilia,  gratefully. 

"  Well,  now  get  your  scissors  ready,  for  I  know  nothing 
about  cutting  out  a  baby's  robe,  so  you  will  have  to  do 
that  part  of  the  work,  but  I  will  seam  and  tuck  and  gather 
and  trim  with  anybody,"  said  Anna,  beginning  to  unroll 
the  snowy  cambric. 

And  Drusilla's  nimble  fingers  soon  shaped  out  the  lit- 
tle dress,  and  the  two  young  women  set  to  work  on  it 
with  as  much  delight  as  ever  two  little  girls  took  in  dress- 
ing a  doll. 

When  they  had  settled  the  style  of  the  trimming  to 
their  mutual  satisfaction,  and  had  then  worked  in  silence 
for  some  time,  Brasilia  looked  up  and  said : 


12  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  I  wonder  if  dear  General  Lyon  will  like  to  have  me 
name  my  poor  discarded  little  baby  after  him  ?  " 

"Of  course  he  will.  It  will  be  a  compliment  paid 
to  him — though  a  well-merited  one  to  him,"  replied 
Anna. 

"  No,  dear,  it  will  not  be  a  compliment  paid  to  him,  but 
a  favor  asked  by  me,  and  my  heart  misgives  me  that  pos- 
sibly he  may  not  like  it." 

"Foolish  little  aeart,  to  have  such  misgivings  !  Why 
don't  you  set  the  doubt  at  rest  by  asking  him  and  finding 
out  what  he  will  answer  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  Anna,  I  cannot  do  that,  because  he  is  so  kind 
that  he  would  be  sure  to  give  me  a  prompt  and  cheerful 
consent,  no  matter  how  much  secret  reluctance  he  might 
have  to  the  measure." 

«  Then  if  you  never  propose  the  matter  to  him,  I  don't 
see  how  you  will  accomplish  your  purpose." 

"  By  your  means,  dear  Anna,  I  hope  to  do  so." 

"  How  by  my  means,  you  absurd  little  thing  ?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  find  out  in  some  other  delicate  way  than 
by  direct  questioning  whether  my  wish  would  be  agree- 
able to  General  Lyon." 

"  I  will  try ;  but  I  warn  you,  I  am  a  very  bad  diplo- 
mat." 

Whether  Miss  Lyon  was  really  a  bad  diplomat  or  not, 
she  did  not  seem  to  think  it  at  all  necessary  to  sound  the 
General  on  the  subject  in  the  manner  Drusilla  desired  ; 
but  as  she  sat  with  her  grandfather  hi  the  drawing-room 
that  night,  she  suddenly  said  : 

"  We  are  going  to  have  our  baby  christened  next  Sun- 
day, grandpa,  and  his  mother  wants  to  name  him  after 
you." 

"  Does  she,  indeed,  the  dear  child  ?  I  had  not  expected 
such  a  thing,"  exclaimed  the  old  man. 

"That  is,  if  you  have  no  objection,  sir." 

"  Objection  !  why  I  am  delighted  ! " 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  the  plan." 

"Like  it?  why  I  have  never  in  my  life  been  more 
pleased  or  more  surprised !  I  shall  make  Master  Leonard 
Lyon  a  very  handsome  christening  present ! " 

"  That's  a,  darling  grandpa !  But  listen.  Don't  say  a 
word  to  Drusilla  about  the  present,  beforehand.  She  is 


CALM  DELIGHTS.  13 

no  more  mercenary  for  her  child  than  she  is  for  herself, 
and  she  is  the  most  sensitive  person  I  ever  met  with  in 
my  life." 

"  All  right,  Anna !  I  shall  say  nothing  of  the  present. 
But  you,  my  little  housekeeper,  you  must  see  that  a 
proper  christening  feast  is  prepared  to  do  honor  to  our 
boy." 

"  You  may  safely  leave  that  to  me,  sir." 

The  next  morning  was  cold,  dark  and  stormy. 

Drusilla  was  forbidden  by  her  nurse  to  go  down-stairs, 
and  so  she  had  her  breakfast  up  in  her  own  room. 

When  the  service  was  cleared  away,  and  she  was  seated 
before  the  fire,  with  the  babe  in  her  arms,  General  Lyon 
entered  the  room. 

She  arose  with  a  countenance  beaming  with  welcome, 
and  was  about  to  lay  her  babe  down,  that  she  might  set 
a  chair  for  her  visitor,  when  he  pleasantly  signed  to  her 
to  resume  her  seat,  and  he  brought  one  to  the  fire  for 
himself. 

"  Anna  tells  me,  my  dear,  that  you  design  me  the  honor 
of  naming  your  fine  boy  after  me,"  he  said,  seating  him- 
self. 

"  If  you  will  please  to  permit  me  to  do  so,  sir,  the  honor 
will  be  mine,  and  will  make  me  happy,'  said  Drusilla, 
blushing  deeply. 

"  My  child,  I  cannot  express  how  much  I  thank  you ! 
how  gratified  and  pleased  I  feel." 

Drusilla  looked  down,  quite  overpowered  by  the  fer- 
vency of  these  acknowledgments,  on  the  part  of  the  old 
hero. 

"  You  must  know,  my  dear,"  he  continued,  "  I  have 
always  secretly  longed  for  another  Leonard  Lyon  to  repre- 
sent me,  when  I  shall  be  gone ;  but  scarcely  had  a  hope 
to  see  one  during  my  life.  Leonard  Lyon  is  a  very  an- 
cient family  name  with  us,  and  has  been  kept  up  in  every 
generation,  except  the  last.  It  failed  there,  because  I  had 
never  been  blessed  with  a  son ;  and  my  brother  had  but 
one,  and  he  was  named  after  the  family  of  his  mother,  who 
was  a  Miss  Alexander.  Thus,  you  see,  the  ancient  name, 
Leonard  Lyon,  would  have  become  extinct  in  me,  had  you 
not  determined  to  revive  and  perpetuate  it  in  your  son. 
Heaven  bless  you  for  the  kind  thought,  my  dear,  for  it 


14  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

has  made  me  very  happy,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  ear- 
nestly. 

"  I  fervently  thank  Heaven,  sir,  for  giving  me  the  power 
of  pleasing  you  in  this  matter,"  murmured  the  blushing 
young  mother,  in  a  low  and  tremulous  voice. 

«*  And  this  I  will  say,  my  child,  that  the  name  your  boy 
will  bear,  has  never,  in  the  thousand  years  of  its  existence, 
been  sullied  by  a  shadow  of  dishonor." 

"  I  know  it  has  been  borne  by  heroes  and  sages,  and  by 
none  others.  I  hope  and  pray  that  my  boy  will  prove 
worthy  of  his  noble  ancestry,"  fervently  breathed  Dru- 
silla. 

"  That  I  feel  sure,  he  will !  If  Heaven  should  grant  me 
a  few  more  years  of  life,  I  shall  take  great  delight  in 
watching  the  growth  of  little  Leonard  Lyon,"  replied  the 
old  gentleman,  as  he  arose,  and  kissed  the  mother  and  the 
babe,  and  left  the  room 

The  following  Sunday  proved  to  be  a  very  fine  day. 
At  an  early  hour,  the  capacious  family  carriage  of  General 
Lyon  was  at  the  door,  well  warmed  and  aired  for  the  re- 
ception of  the  delicate  mother  and  the  tender  infant. 

Not  even  on  her  first  bridal  day,  had  Drusilla  looked  so 
lovely  as  she  did  now,  when  she  came  down-stairs,  dressed 
for  church,  her  delicate,  pale  beauty,  still  more  tenderly 
softened  by  her  simple  bonnet  of  white  velvet,  and  wrap- 
pings of  white  furs. 

She  was  attended  by  mammy,  dressed  in  her  Sunday's 
best,  and  carrying  the  baby,  richly  arrayed  hi  his  christen- 
ing robes. 

General  Lyon,  Anna,  Drusilla,  the  nurse  and  the  baby 
rode  in  the  carriage. 

Dick  Hammond,  on  horseback,  escorted  them. 

The  parish  church  was  at  Saulsburg,  six,  eight,  or  ten 
miles  off,  according  to  conflicting  statements.  So,  early  as 
they  set  out,  they  were  not  likely  to  be  much  too  early  to 
join  in  the  commencement  of  the  service. 

When  they  reached  the  turnpike  gate,  they  found  old 
Andy  on  duty. 

Seeing  Dick  cantering  on  in  advance  of  the  approaching 
carriage,  he  placed  himself  behind  the  gate,  and  lifted  up 
both  his  arms,  while  he  called  aloud  to  his  wife : 

"  Jenny,  woman !  come  out  wi'  ye,  and  tak  the  toll, 


CALM  DELIGHTS.  15 

whiles  I  stand  here  to  keep  yon  daft  laddie  frae  leaping 
o'er  the  bar  again  !  " 

In  answer  to  the  summons,  Jenny  appeared  just  in  time 
to  receive  Mr.  Hammond,  who  quietly  drew  rein  before 
the  door,  paid  for  himself,  and  the  carriage  behind  him, 
and  then  with  a  bow,  rode  on  his  way. 

The  carriage  followed  ;  but  as  it  passed,  Mrs.  Birney  got 
a  glimpse  of  the  passengers  inside  and  after  doing  so,  she 
dropped  her  chin,  and  lifted  her  eyebrows,  and  remained 
transfixed  and  staring,  like  one  demented. 

"Eh,  woman!  what's  come  o'er  ye?  Are  ye  be- 
witched ?  "  questioned  Mr.  Birney,  as  he  passed  her,  in 
going  into  the  house. 

"  Na,  gudeman,  I'm  no  bewitched ;  but  just  amazed 
like  !  Didna  ye  see  yon  bonny  leddy  lying  back  among 
the  cushions  ?  She  that  was  all  happed  about  wi'  braw 
white  velvets  and  furs  ?  " 

"  Aweel,  and  what  of  her  ?  " 

"  Hech,  gudeman,  she's  na  ither  than  the  puir  bit  lassie 
that  came  ben  to  us  that  night  o'  the  grand  storm." 

"  Hout,  woman !  hauld  your  tongue !  no'  to  ken  the 
differ  between  a  born  leddy  like  this  ane,  and  a  young 
gilpey  like  yon  ! " 

"  I  ken  weel  the  differ  between  a  leddy  and  a  gilpey. 
And  I  dinna  need  dress  to  instruct  me  in  it,  either,  gude- 
man. I  kenned  the  lass  was  na  gilpey  when  I  saw  her  in 
her  auld  gray  cloak ;  and  I  kenned  her  again  in  the  bit 
glint  I  had  of  her  bonny  face  as  she  lay  back  in  her  braw 
velvets  and  furs,  wi'  her  wee  bairn  by  her  side.  Eh ! 
but  I'd  like  to  hear  the  rights  iv  that !  " 

"  The  rights  o'  what,  woman  ?  " 

"  The  grand  wedding  pit  aff  again  ;  the  fine  bridegroom 
ganging  aff  in  a  jiffey  ;  this  young,  bonny  leddy  and  her 
bairn  made  so  muckle  iv  by  the  whole  family.  But  it's  na 
gude  to  speer  questions.  The  minister  will  na  speak ; 
the  doctor  will  na  speak;  the  vera  serving  lads  and 
lasses  will  na  speak,  although  on  ordinary  occasions 
they're  a'  unco  fond  o'  clackin  their  clavers.  But  we 
shall  hear,  gude  man  !  we  shall  hear !  Secrets  like  yon 
canna  be  kept,  e'en  gif  they  be  stappit  up  in  a  bottle." 

"  Gudewife,  ye'll  do  weel  to  gie  your  attention  to  your 
ain  proper  business  and  no  meddle  wi'  that  whilk  dinna 


16  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

concern  you.  The  auld  general  pit  us  here  to  keep  the 
gate,  and  no  to  speer  questions  into  his  preevate  affairs. 
And  though  the  situation  is  na  sick  a  gude  ane,  it  might 
be  waur.  Sae  we'll  behoove  to  gie  na  offence  wi'  med- 
dling," said  Andy,  as  he  sat  down  and  opened  his  big  Bible 
to  read. 

Meanwhile  the  Lyon  family  went  on  to  church,  which 
they  entered  just  as  the  organ  had  ceased  playing  and  the 
minister  was  opening  his  book. 

It  was  not  until  after  the  last  lesson  of  the  morning 
service  was  over  that  the  announcement  was  made  : 

"  All  persons  having  children  present  for  baptism  will 
now  bring  them  forward." 

Our  whole  party  left  their  pew  and  proceeded  to  the 
front. 

General  Lyon,  as  senior  sponsor,  took  the  babe  in  his 
arms  and  presented  him  to  the  minister.  Dick  as  junior 
sponsor  stood  by. 

Anna  was  sole  godmother. 

And  amid  the  customary  prayers,  promises,  and  bene- 
dictions, the  child  received  the  time-honored  name  of 
Leonard  Lyon. 

On  their  way  home,  the  whole  party  congratulated  each 
other  with  much  affection  and  cheerfulness. 

But  withal,  Dick,  riding  along  slowly  by  the  side  of  the 
carriage,  was  visited  with  some  very  serious  reflections. 
He  felt  the  great  moral  and  religious  responsibility  of  the 
office  he  had  undertaken.  And  thus  he  communed  with 
himself : 

"  General  Lyon  is  aged  and  cannot  be  expected  to  live 
very  much  longer.  Anna  is  a  woman.  On  me  must  de- 
volve the  duty  of  looking  after  that  boy.  Good  Heavens  ; 
However  did  they  come  to  think  of  making  such  a  good 
for  nothing  dog  as  I  am  godfather  to  that  innocent  baby  ? 
It  is  enough  to  make  my  hair  stand  on  end  to  think  of  it. 
The  fact  is,  I  must  strike  a  light  and  look  about  myself. 
I  must,  I  positively  must  and  will,  thoroughly  mend  my 
ways  and  reform  my  life  !  not  only  for  Anna's  sake — who 
knows  me  already,  and  takes  me  for  better  for  worse  with 
her  eyes  wide  open — but  for  this  innocent  babe's  sake, 
upon  whom,  without  his  knowledge  or  consent,  they  have 
thrust  me  for  a  godfather  !  No  more  gambling,  no  more 


SURPRISES.  17 

drinking,  no  more  carousing  with  scamps,  and  squander- 
ing of  money,  Dick,  my  boy  !  Remember  that  you  are 
godfather  to  Master  Leonard  Lyon,  and  responsible  for 
his  moral  and  religious  education.  And  you  must  be 
equal  to  the  occasion  and  true  to  the  trust." 

So  profound  were  Dick's  cogitations  that  he  found  him- 
self at  Old  Lyon  Hall  before  he  was  conscious  of  the  fact. 

He  sprang  from  his  horse  in  time  to  assist  the  old  gen- 
tleman and  the  young  ladies  to  alight. 

And  they  all  entered  the  house,  where  Drusilla  was 
greeted  by  a  pleasant  surprise. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SURPRISES. 

Were  her  eyes  open?    Yes,  and  her  mouth,  too ; 
Surprise  has  this  effect  to  make  one  dumb, 
Yet  leave  the  gate  which  eloquence  slips  through 
As  wide  as  if  a  long  speech  were  to  come. — BYRON. 

THE  family  party  first  separated  to  go  to  their  several 
chambers  to  lay  aside  their  outside  wrappings  and  to  pre- 
pare for  their  early  Sunday  dinner. 

Then  they  met  in  the  drawing-room. 

Drusilla,  who  had  more  to  do  than  the  others,  was  the 
latest  to  join  them. 

Her  baby,  that  had  slept  soundly  during  the  long  ride 
from  church,  was  now  awake  and  required  attention. 

While  she  was  engaged  in  her  sweet  maternal  duties, 
she  received  a  message  from  General  Lyon  requesting  that 
his  godson  might  be  brought  down  into  the  drawing-room 
before  dinner. 

So  as  soon  as  the  young  mother  had  made  herself  and 
her  child  presentable,  she  went  down-stairs,  followed  by 
the  nurse  carrying  the  babe. 

On  the  threshold  of  the  room  she  paused  in  pleased  sur- 
prise, and  not  so  much  at  the  value  of  the  presents  dis- 
played before  her,  as  at  the  new  instance  of  kindness  on 
the  part  of  her  friends. 

On  a  round  table  covered  with  a  fine  crimson  cloth 


18  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

were  laid  the  christening  offerings,  of  great  splendor  for 
their  kind. 

There  was  a  richly  chased  silver  casket  filled  with  gold 
coins  from  General  Lyon.  There  was  a  baby's  silver  gilt 
service — consisting  of  waiter,  pap  bowl,  water  jug,  and 
drinking  mug,  cream  pot,  sugar  basin,  sugar  tongs  and 
spoons — from  Dick.  And  there  was  a  coral  and  bells  of 
the  finest  coral,  purest  gold,  and  most  superb  workman- 
ship, from  Anna. 

"  Dear  uncle  !  dear  Anna  and  Dick,  how  kind,  oh  how 
kind,  you  all  are  to  rne  and  my  boy !  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  much  I  feel  your  kindness.  I  am  very  grateful ;  and 
I  hope,  oh,  I  hope,  my  dear  little  Leonard  will  live  to 
thank  you  !  "  fervently  exclaimed  Drusilla,  pressing  the 
hand  of  her  aged  benefactor  to  her  heart,  and  lifting  her 
eyes  full  of  loving  gratitude  to  her  young  friends,  who 
stood  side  by  side  enjoying  her  delight. 

"  My  dear,  it  gives  us  as  much  pleasure  to  offer  you 
these  little  tokens  of  our  affection  as  it  can  possibly  give 
you  to  receive  them,"  answered  General  Lyon,  drawing 
her  towards  him  and  touching  her  forehead  with  his  lips. 

"  It  does  indeed,  sweet  cousin,"  added  Dick. 

And  Anna,  for  her  answer,  silently  kissed  the  young 
mother. 

"  And  now  to  dinner,  which  has  been  announced  for 
twenty  minutes,"  smiled  the  old  gentleman,  drawing 
Drusilla's  arm  within  his  own  and  leading  the  way  to  the 
dining-room,  where  a  feast  of  unusual  elegance  was  laid 
in  honor  of  the  occasion. 

The  day  closed  in  serene  enjoyment. 

When  Drusilla  retired  to  her  room  that  evening,  she 
found  that  the  christening  presents  had  been  transferred 
from  the  round  table  in  the  drawing-room  to  an  elegant 
little  cabinet  that  had  been  purchased  to  receive  them, 
and  placed  in  the  nursery. 

Before  she  went  to  bed  she  knelt  down  and  thanked 
Heaven  for  the  mercies  that  now  blessed  her  life. 

As  her  head  rested  on  her  pillow,  with  the  face  of  the 
sleeping  babe  near  her,  softly  seen  by  the  subdued  light 
of  the  shaded  lamp,  she  wondered  at  the  peace  that  had 
descended  upon  her  troubled  spirit  and  made  her  calmly 
happy. 


SURPRISES.  19 

Had  she  then  ceased  to  love  her  faithless  husband  ? 

Ah,  no !  for  pure  love  like  hers  is  of  immortal  life  and 
cannot  die.  But  she  had  ceased  to  sorrow  for  him,  for 
sorrow  is  of  mortal  birth  and  cannot  live  forever. 

She  felt  safe  under  the  fatherly  care  of  the  fine  old 
head  of  the  family,  cheerful  in  the  company  of  her  affec- 
tionate young  friends  Dick  and  Anna,  and  happy — oh, 
deeply,  unutterably  happy ! — in  the  possession  of  her 
beautiful  boy.  She  felt  no  trouble. 

"  Baby  fingers,   waxen  touches  pressed  it  from  the  mother's 
breast." 

She  never  heard  from  Alick  ;  but  then,  as  she  did  not 
expect  to  hear  from  him,  she  was  not  disappointed. 

She  never  heard  from  Cedarwood  either ;  but  then  as 
she  had  left  directions  with  the  servants  only  to  have 
letters  written  to  her  in  case  of  necessity,  she  felt  that,  in 
this  instance,  "  no  news  is  good  news." 

Mammy  was  growing  rather  restive  and  desirous  of  re- 
turning to  her  home,  but  Drusilla  besought  her  to  remain 
a  little  longer  at  Old  Lyon  Hall. 

"  Wait,"  she  said,  "  until  the  next  spell  of  fine  weather, 
when  baby  will  be  able  to  travel,  and  I  too  will  return  to 
Cedarwood.  I  must  not  stay  away  from  the  home  pro- 
vided for  me  by  my  husband,  nor  yet  tax  the  hospitality 
of  my  dear  friends  longer." 

Mammy  looked  puzzled,  for  though  the  faithful  old 
household  servants  had  carefully  forborne  to  speak  of  un- 
pleasant family  affairs  in  the  presence  of  the  nurse,  whom 
they  looked  upon  as  a  stranger  and  an  alien,  still  she  had 
heard  enough  to  give  her  the  impression  that  young  Mr. 
Lyon  had  abandoned  his  wife.  Therefore  Mammy  was 
rather  bewildered  by  this  talk  of  returning  to  Cedarwood. 

"  I  do  not  think  as  the  General  and  the  young  people 
will  consent  to  part  with  you,  ma'am  ;  and  indeed  I  think 
it  will  a'most  break  all  their  hearts  to  lose  little  Master 
Leonard,"  said  the  nurse. 

M I  know  they  will  not  like  it,  because  they  are  so  kind 
to  us — so  very  kind,  and  therefore  I  have  shrunk  from 
mentioning  it  to  them  ;  but  my  duty  is  clear — I  must  go 
to  my  own  home  and  I  must  advise  them  of  my  purpose 
without  delay." 


20  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Well,  ma'am,  certingly,  if  they  wants  your  company 
ever  so,  they  ain't  got  no  power  to  keep  you  ag'in'  your 
will ;  and  so,  ma'am,  if  you  is  set  to  go  home  first  fine 
spell  arter  Christmas,  I  reckon  as  I  can  wait  and  see  you 
safe  through,"  said  the  nurse,  graciously. 

"  Thank  you ;  it  will  be  a  great  favor,"  replied  Drusilla, 

The  time  was  drawing  near  to  the  Christmas  holidays 
— a  season  always  hitherto  observed  by  the  Lyons  with 
great  festivity — when  they  had  been  unbounded  in  their 
hospitality  and  munificent  in  their  presents. 

On  this  occasion,  some  five  or  six  days  before  Christ- 
mas, General  Lyon  sent  Dick  to  Richmond,  armed  with  a 
handful  of  blank  checks  signed  and  left  to  be  filled  up  at 
pleasure,  and  commissioned  to  purchase  the  most  elegant 
and  appropriate  holiday  gifts  that  he  could  find  for  every 
member  of  the  family  and  every  household  servant ;  but 
above  all,  to  get  a  handsome  perambulator,  a  crib  bed- 
stead, and — a  hobby  horse  for  Master  Leonard. 

"  Good  gracious  me,  grandpa !  "  had  been  Anna's  excla- 
mation on  hearing  of  this  last  item,  "  what  on  earth  do 
you  think  a  baby  of  a  few  weeks  old  can  do  with  a  hobby 
horse  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  my  dear,  but  I  wish  to  give  it  to  him." 

"  He  won't  be  able  to  sit  on  it  for  three  years  to  come." 

"  And  I  may  not  live  to  see  that  time,  my  dear,  and  as 
I  wish  to  give  it  to  him  I  must  do  so  now.  It  can  be 
kept  for  him,  you  know.  And  now,  while  we  are  on  the 
subject,  I  wish  to  ask  you  to  have  one  of  the  many  rooms 
in  this  house  fitted  up  as  a  play-room  for  him.  Let  it  be 
as  near  the  nursery  as  possible ;  and  whatever  childish 
treasures  I  may  purchase  may  be  put  there  and  kept  un- 
til he  is  old  enough  to  enjoy  them." 

This  conversation  had  taken  place  in  the  presence  of 
Drusilla ;  but  as  no  part  of  it  had  been  addressed  to  her, 
she  only  expressed  her  gratitude  for  the  intended  kind- 
ness by  glancing  thankfully  from  one  speaker  to  the 
other. 

But  she  felt  more  strongly  than  ever  that,  however  re- 
luctant she  might  be  to  announce  her  intended  departure 
from  such  kind  friends,  it  was  incumbent  upon  her  to  do 
so  before  they  should  make  any  material  change  in  their 
household  arrangements  for  her  sake. 


SURPRISES.  21 

So  after  a  little  hesitation  she  commenced  : 

w  Dear  friends,  while  ever  I  live  in  this  world  I  shall 
remember  your  goodness  to  me,  and  with  my  last  breath 
I  shall  pray  Heaven  to  bless  you  for  it.  But " 

"  We  have  pleased  ourselves  in  this,  my  dear ;  so  say 
nothing  more  about  it,"  smiled  the  old  gentleman,  laying 
his  hand  kindly  on  her  head. 

"  Thanks — a  thousand  thanks,  dear  sir ;  but  I  feel  that 
I  must  soon  leave  you " 

"  Leave  us  .  "  echoed  General  Lyon,  Anna  and  Dick  all 
in  a  breath. 

a  It  is  time  for  me  to  return  to  my  home,"  she  said, 
gently. 

"  Your  home,  Drusilla ! "  said  General  Lyon,  in  a  grava 
and  tender  voice.  "  Poor  child,  where  will  you  find  so 
proper  a  home  as  this,  where  your  relations  with  us  give 
you  the  right  to  stay,  and  where  our  affection  for  you 
makes  you  more  than  welcome  ?  " 

"Nowhere,  indeed,  sir,  but  in  the  house  provided  for 
me,  by — my  husband"  answered  Drusilla,  breathing  the 
last  two  words  in  a  scarcely  audible  tone. 

"  Ah !  he  has  come  to  his  senses  ;  he  has  written  and 
entreated  you  to  join  him.  For  the  sake  of  my  faith  in 
human  nature  I  am  glad  that  he  has  done  so,"  said  the 
General. 

"  Oh,  no,  he  has  not  yet  written  to  me,"  sn*lled  Drusilla. 

"  But  you  have  heard  from  him  ?  " 

"  No,  not  since  that  night." 

"  Then  what  do  you  mean,  my  dear,  by  talking  of  the 
home  he  has  provided  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  mean  the  cottage  to  which  he  took  me  when  we 
were  first  married — Cedarwood,  near  Washington." 

"  Where  you  suffered  such  cruel  mental  anguish  as  I 
should  think  would  render  the  very  thought  of  the  place 
hateful  to  you,  my  poor  child,"  said  General  Lyon,  com- 
passionately. 

Drusilla  gave  him  a  pleading  look  that  seemed  to 
pray  him  to  say  nothing  that  might  even  by  impli- 
cation reproach  her  absent  husband;  and  then  she 
added : 

"  There  were  other  memories  and  associations  con- 
nected with  Cedarwood,  dear  sir.  The  first  few  weeks  of 


22  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

my  married  life  were  very  happy  ;  and  my  housekeeping 
and  gardening  very  cheerful  and  pleasant." 

a  But  all  that  is  changed.     Why  go  back  there  now  ?  " 

«  Because  it  is  my  proper  home." 

"  Yet — he — that  man  has  not  invited  you  to  return  ?  " 

«*  No,  but  then  I  left  of  my  own  accord,  and  now  that  I 
am  able  to  travel,  it  is  my  duty  to  go  back,  though  unin- 
vited. I  must  not  wait  to  be  asked  to  return  to  my  post," 
said  the  young  wife. 

The  General  was  silent  and  thoughtful  for  a  mo- 
ment and  then  he  said,  firmly  : 

"  My  child,  you  must  think  no  more  of  this." 

She  looked  at  him ;  but  hesitated  to  oppose  him,  and 
when  she  did  answer  she  spoke  gravely  and  gently : 

"  Dear  sir,  it  is  right  for  me  to  go." 

"  Drusilla,  think  no  more  of  this,  I  say,"  he  repeated, 
and  this  time  with  an  air  of  assured  authority. 

"  Dear  uncle,  why  do  you  say  so  ?  " 

"  I  might  answer,  it  would  be  too  painful  to  me  to  part 
with  you  and  your  boy." 

tt  Thanks  for  saying  that,  sir.  I  too,  feel  that  to  leave 
this  safe,  sweet  old  home,  and  these  loving  friends,  will 
be  very  painful ;  duty  often  is  so ;  but  not  for  that  must 
we  fail  in  it." 

"  Drusilla !  I  repeat  that  you  must  not  think  of  taking 
this  step  !  Not  only  has  your  unworthy " 

She  looked  at  him  so  deprecatingly,  that  he  broke  off 
his  speech  and  began  anew. 

"  Well,  well,  I  will  not  wound  you  if  I  can  help  it,  my 
dear  ! — I  say,  not  only  has  your  husband  not  invited  you 
to  return  to  your  home,  but  he  has  positively  forbidden 
you  to  do  so.  Do  you  remember,  poor  child,  the  terms 
he  used  in  discarding  you  ?  " 

"  Words  spoken  in  the  '  short  madness '  of  anger.  I  do 
not  wish  to  remember  them,  dear  General  Lyon,"  she 
sweetly  answered. 

" My  child  !  do  you  know  where  to  write  to  him?  " 

"  Oh  no,  sir." 

"  Do  you  think  that  he  will  write  to  you  ?  or  do  you 
hope  that  he  will  join  you  at  Cedarwood  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  dear  uncle  !  at  least,  not  for  a  long  time  But 
I  hope  that  he  will  feel  some  interest  in  his  child,  and  he 


SURPRISES.  23 

will  inquire  about  it,  and  when  he  finds  out  what  a  beau- 
tiful boy  it  is,  he  will  come  to  see  it ;  and  then,  then — for 
the  boy's  sake  he  will  forgive  the  mother." 

"  Forgive !  Heaven  of  Heavens,  girl !  what  has  he  to 
forgive  hi  you  ?  "  indignantly  demanded  Anna. 

«  That  which  a  man  seldom  pardons — although  it  was 
done  from  love  to  him  and  his  child,"  answered  Drusilla, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  Then  you  really  have  a  hope  that  he  will  rejoin  you 
at  Cedarwood  ?  "  inquired  General  Lyon. 

"  At  some  future  day,  sir,  yes." 

"  And  in  the  meanwhile  you  live  alone  there  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  not  quite ;  but  with  my  boy  and  servants.^ 

"  And  how  do  you  propose  to  support  the  little  establish- 
ment, my  dear  ?  Come,  I  wish  to  know  your  ideas  ; 
though  I  dare  say,  poor  child,  you  have  never  thought  of 
the  subject." 

"  Oh  yes,  dear  sir,  I  have.  In  the  first  place,  I  have 
nearly  fifteen  hundred  dollars  in  money,  left  at  home ; 
that  will  keep  us  in  moderate  comfort  for  two  years,  es- 
pecially as  I  have  abundance  of  everything  else  on  the 
premises — furniture,  clothing  and  provisions,  in  the  house ; 
and  a  kitchen  garden,  an  orchard,  poultry  yard  and  dairy, 
on  the  place.  So,  at  the  very  worst,  I  could  keep  a  mar- 
ket farm,"  smiled  Drusilla. 

"  But  in  the  meanwhile  live  alone,  or  with  only  your 
infant  babe  and  your  servants  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  I  tell  you,  Drusilla,  that  you  must  not,  shall  not 
do  so,"  repeated  the  General,  with  emphasis. 

"  Oh,  sir,  why  would  you  hinder  me  ?  "  she  pleaded,  lift- 
ing her  imploring  eyes  to  his  face. 

"  For  your  salvation,  dear  child,"  he  answered,  very 
gently. 

«  But  how  for  my  salvation,  dear  uncle  ?  " 

"  Drusilla,  you  cannot  know,  only  heaven  can  know,  how 
difficult,  how  impossible  it  is  for  a  young  forsaken  wife  to 
live  alone  and  escape  scandal." 

"  But,  dear  sir,  if  I  do  right,  and  trust  'in  the  Lord,  I 
have  nothing  to  fear." 

"Poor  child!  I  must  answer  you  hi  the  words  of 
another  old  bore,  as  meddlesome  as  perhaps  you  think  me. 


24:  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Be  thou  as  chaste  as  ice,  as  pure  as  snow,  thou  shall  not 
escape  calumny." 

"  But,  sir,  in  addition  to  all  that^  I  mean  to  be  very  dis- 
creet, to  live  very  quietly  with  my  little  household,  and 
to  see  no  company  whatever,  except  you  and  Anna,  if  you 
should  honor  me  with  a  visit,  and  to  make  no  visits  ex- 
cept here." 

"But  you  must  go  to  church  sometimes;  and  when 
your  babe  is  ailing,  you  must  see  a  doctor ;  also  it  will  be 
necessary  occasionally  to  have  your  chimneys  swept ;  and 
the  tax-gatherer  will  make  you  an  annual  visit." 

"  Of  course,  dear  sir,"  she  smiled. 

"  And  yet  you  hope  to  preserve  your  good  name  ? — Ah, 
my  dear  child,  no  forsaken  wife,  living  alone  can  do  so, 
much  less  one  so  very  young  and  inexperienced  as  your- 
self. If  the  venomous  '  fangs  of  malice  '  can  find  no  other 
hold  upon  you,  they  will  assail  you  through — the  Christian 
minister  who  brings  you  religious  consolation  for  your 
sorrows ;  the  family  physician  who  attends  you  in  your 
illness,  to  save  your  life  ;  to  the  legal  adviser  who  man- 
ages your  business ;  the  tax-gatherer,  the  chimney-sweep, 
or  anybody  or  everybody  whom  church,  state,  or  need 
should  call  into  your  house." 

"  Ah,  sir  !  that  is  very  severe  !  I  hope  it  is  not  as  you 
think.  I  believe  better  of  the  world  than  that,"  said 
Drusilla. 

"  When  the  world  has  stung  you  nearly  to  death  or  to 
madness,  my  dear,  you  may  judge  more  truly  and  less 
tenderly  of  it.  And  now,  Drusilla,  hear  me.  You  do  not 
go  to  Cedarwood ;  you  do  not  leave  our  protection  until 
your  husband  claims  you  of  us.  Let  the  subject  drop 
here  at  once,  and  forever." 

Drusilla  bowed  her  head  in  silence ;  but  she  was  not 
the  less  resolved  at  heart  to  return  to  Cedarwood,  and 
risk  all  dangers,  hi  the  hope  that  her  husband  might  some 
day  join  her  there. 

But  Destiny  had  decided  Drusilla's  course  in  another 
direction. 

The  event  that  prevented  her  return  to  Cedarwood 
shall  be  related  in  the  next  chapter. 


A  MESSENGER.  25 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A    MESSENGER. 

The  boy  alighted  at  the  gate, 

But  scarce  upheld  his  fainting  weight ; 

His  swarthy  visage  spake  distress, 

But  this  might  be  from  weariness. — BYRON. 

IN  the  sunshine  of  affection  and  happiness  Brasilia  grew 
beautiful  and  blooming.  She  loved  her  truant  Alexander 
as  faithfully  as  ever,  but  she  loved  him  in  hope  and  trust, 
and  not  in  fear  and  sorrow.  She  felt  that  he  was  old 
enough,  big  enough  and  strong  enough  to  take  care  of 
himself,  even  when  out  of  her  sight,  while  here  upon  her 
lap  lay  a  lovely  babe,  a  gift  of  the  Heavenly  Father  to  her, 
a  soft  little  creature  whose  helplessness  solicited  her 
tenderness,  whose  innocence  deserved  it,  and  whose  love 
will  certainly  return  it. 

Her  baby  gave  her  love  for  love,  and  the  very  faintness 
and  feebleness  of  its  little  signs  of  love,  made  these  sweet 
infant  efforts  all  the  more  touching  and  pathetic.  How 
could  she  trouble  herself  about  Alexander  and  his  doings 
while  her  little  boy  lay  smiling  in  her  eyes  ? 

"  Baby  lips  will  laugh  him  down." 

"Yes,  my  darling  boy,"  she  murmured,  gazing  fondly 
on  his  face,  "  you  will  always  love  me,  and  when  you  grow 
up  to  be  a  man  you  will  love  me  all  the  more,  because  I 
shall  be  old  and  feeble."  And  her  thoughts  involuntarily 
reverted  to  the  bearded  man  who  had  rejoiced  in  her 
health  and  beauty,  but  turned  coldly  away  from  her  when 
she  was  sick  and  pale,  and  most  needed  his  love  and  care. 

Anna,  who  was  sitting  with  her,  laughed  merrily. 

Brasilia  looked  up,  with  just  a  shadow  of  annoyance  on 
her  fair  face.  And  Anna  answered  the  look : 

"  My  dear,  I  laughed  at  what  you  said." 

"  Well,  but  I  spoke  truth.  I  know  my  darling  will 
always  love  me,  and  when  he  grows  up  a  tall,  strong 
man,  and  I  shall  be  an  old  and  infirm  woman,  he  will  love 


26  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

me  more  tenderly  than  before,  because  I  am  old  and  in- 
firm," persisted  the  fond  mother,  stooping  her  lips  to  her 
boy's  brow. 

Anna  laughed  louder  than  ever. 

"  Why,  Drusilla,"  she  said,  "  you  are  but  sixteen  years 
old.  When  your  son  is  grown  up,  say  at  twenty,  you 
will  be  but  thirty-six,  in  the  very  maturity  of  a  healthy 
woman's  strength  and  beauty.  Your  son  will  be  your 
dearest  friend  and  companion ;  if  you  have  lost  somewhat 
of  the  wife's  happiness,  you  will  have  an  unusual  share  of 
the  mother's  joy.  You  are  still  so  young,  such  a  mere 
child  yourself,  that  you  may  t^e  your  little  son  by  the 
hand  with  the  prospect  of  going  nearly  the  whole  journey 
of  life  together.  You  will  be  his  playfellow  in  his  childish 
sports ;  his  fellow  student  in  his  boyish  studies,  and  his 
comrade  in  his  youthful  travels.  You  will  go  on  in  life 
and  grow  old  together— or  almost  together." 

"  Oh,  so  we  will.  I  did  not  think  of  it  before.  I  was 
thinking  that  the  mother  of  a  grown  son  must  be  quite  an 
aged  lady.  Alick's  mother  was  quite  aged  and  infirm." 

"  Yes,  because  she  was  forty-four  years  old  when  Alick 
was  born,  which  makes  some  difference,  you  know.' 
laughed  Anna. 

There  was   silence   a  little  while  and  then  Anna  said, 

"  You  will  have  much  joy  in  your  son,  if  the  Lord 
should  spare  him  to  you,  Drusilla." 

"  The  Lord  will  spare  him  to  me.  I  feel  convinced  of 
it/'  answered  the  young  mother  reverently. 

"And  every  year — nay,  every  month— your  joy  will 
increase  ;  for  as  his  affections  and  intelligence  develop,  he 
will  grow  more  and  more  interesting  and  attractive  to 
you." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  he  could  scarcely  ever  be  more  in- 
teresting and  attractive  than  he  is  now.  Look  at  him, 
Anna.  See  how  beautiful  are  his  mute,  faint  efforts  to 
express  the  love  he  feels,  but  does  not  understand.  '  Touch 
is  the  love  sense.'  He  knows  that,  at  least ;  and  see  how 
his  little  hands  tremble  up  towards  mine  and  then  drop ; 
and  see  the  smile  dawning  in  his  eyes,  and  fluttering 
around  his  lips,  as  if  uncertain  of  itself  ?  Will  you  tell 
me,  at  what  time  of  a  child's  existence  it  is  sweeter  and 
lovelier  than  now  in  its  first  budding  into  life  ?  " 


A  MESSENGER.  27 

Before  Anna  could  answer  the  question,  the  door  was 
opened  by  mammy,  who  chirpingly  announced : 

"  Here  is  Leo,  from  Cedarwood,  ma'am,  bringing  letters 
for  you." 

And  she  closed  the  door,  leaving  Leo  standing  before 
his  astonished  mistress. 

"  It  is  my  footman  from  my  old  home,  dear  Anna,"  ex- 
plained  Drusilla. 

Then,  turning  to  the  messenger,  she  held  out  her  hand 
and  said : 

"  How  do  you  do,  Leo  ?    You  have  letters  for  me  ?  " 

Leo  slowly  took  a  packet  from  his  pocket,  handed  them 
over  to  his  mistress,  and  then,  lifting  both  his  hands  to  his 
eyes,  burst  out  crying  and  ROARED  as  only  a  negro  boy 
with  his  feelings  hurt  can  do. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  anxiously  inquired  Dru- 
silla, pausing  in  the  examination  of  her  letters,  in  her  pity 
for  the  distress  of  the  boy — "  What  is  the  matter,  my 
poor  Leo  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mum,  it  is  to  see-hee,"  sobbed  Leo  "  to  see-hee  you 
so  well-hell,  and  hap-pappy,  and  to  know  as  I  am  bring 
— hing  bad  news  again  !  Seems  like  I  was  born — horn  to 
be  the  death  of  you,  ma'am,"  said  the  boy,  scarcely  able  to 
articulate  through  his  sobs. 

"  I  hope  not,  Leo.  Sit  down  and  compose  yourself.  I 
trust  your  master  is  well." 

"  Oh  yes,  mum,  he  is  well  enough  (wish  to  Goodness 
Cfracious  he  wasn't ! )  but  he's  done,  tored  up  everything 
and — Boo !  hoo  !  ooo !  "  cried  Leo,  gushing  out  into  such  a 
cataract  of  tears  and  sobs  that  he  was  forced  to  bury  his 
face  in  his  big  bandana  and  sink  into  a  seat. 

"Compose  yourself,  Leo,  and  I  will  read  my  letters. 
They  will  explain,  I  suppose,"  said  Drusilla,  opening  the 
packet. 

There  were  three  letters  from  her  lawyers,  which  she 
laid  aside ;  and  there  was  one  from  her  husband,  which 
she  opened  and  read.  It  ran  thus : 

«  CEDARWOOD,  Dec.  22, 18—. 

"  MADAM  : — Had  you  chosen  to  remain  quietly  in  the 
home  I  provided  for  you  it  should  have  been  yours  for 
life,  with  a  sufficient  income  to  keep  it  up.  But  as  yoa 


28  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

voluntarily  left  it,  you  have  forfeited  your  right  to  return 
to  it,  as  well  as  your  claims  upon  me  for  support.  The 
place  is  now  dismantled  and  sold.  The  messenger  who 
takes  this  letter  has  charge  of  all  your  personal  effects,  and 
will  deliver  them  over  to  you.  ALEXANDER  LYON. 

We  know  the  time,  not  so  long  since,  when  the  young 
wife  would  have  screamed,  cried  or  swooned  at  the  re- 
ception of  such  a  letter  from  her  husband. 

Now,  she  simply  bent  forward  and  laid  it  on  the  fire,  and 
when  it  blazed  up  and  sank  to  ashes,  she  said : 

"  It  is  gone  ;  and  now  it  shall  be  forgotten." 

And  then  she  stooped  and  kissed  her  babe. 

Leo,  stealing  an  anxious  glance  at  her,  misunderstood 
the  movement  and  started  forward,  exclaiming : 

M  Oh,  mum  !  don't  go  for  to  faint ;  please  don't." 

Brasilia  looked  at  him  and  smiled  kindly,  saying 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  do  so,  my  boy.  I  am  strong  and 
healthy  now,  thank  Heaven !  and  besides,  there  is  nothing 
to  faint  about.  I  am  only  a  little  sorry  that  the  cottage 
is  sold." 

"  Oh,  mum  !  don't !  I  shall  cry  again  if  you  do !  Oh, 
mum,  you  used  to  say  as  how  you  would  make  that  wilder- 
ness to  bloom  and  blossom  as  the  rose ;  and  so  you  did, 
mum,  lovely !  But  oh,  mum  !  he  have  turned  the  beauti- 
ful place  into  a  howling  wilderness  again !  "  bawled  the 
boy. 

M  Never  mind,  Leo,  I  will  get  it  back  again  some  day 
and  restore  all  its  beauty,"  said  Brasilia,  smiling.  "  And 
now,  my  boy,  where  is  your  sister  ?  " 

"  She  have  gone  back  to  Alexandria,  mum ;  but  sends 
her  love  and  service  to  you,  mum." 

"And  the  poor  pets — the  little  birds,  and  the  cat  and 
kittens,  Leo  ?  " 

"  Pina  has  got  them  all  to  take  care  on  for  you,  ma'am, 
till  you  sends  for  'em  and  for  her,  cause  she  considers  of 
herself  into  your  service,  ma'am,  which  likewise  so  do  I." 

"  And  the  cow  and  calf,  and  the  horses,  Leo  ?  " 

"They  was  sold  to  the  people  as  bought  the  place, 
ma'am." 

« I  hope  they  will  be  kindly  treated." 

*'  I  hope  they  will,  ma'am ;  for  they  did  miss  you  as 


A  MESSENGER.  29 

well  as  me  and  Pina  did ;  and  they  showed  it  in  every 
way  as  dumb  creeturs  could." 

"  And  where  did  you  leave  my  effects,  Leo  ?  " 

"  I  brought  as  many  trunks  as  I  could  on  the  stage  with 
me,  ma'am  ;  and  the  rest  of  the  boxes  is  coming  down  by 
wagons.  Pina  was  very  careful  in  packing  everything, 
ma'am  ;  and  here  is  the  money  you  gave  me  to  keep,"  said 
Leo,  taking  a  sealed  packet  from  his  breast  pocket,  and 
handing  it  to  his  mistress. 

«  Thanks,  my  boy  ;  you  and  your  sister  have  been  very 
faithful,  and  I  shall  certainly  retain  you  both  in  my  serv- 
ice, and  at  an  increase  of  wages." 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  neither  me,  nor  yet  Pina  is  mussenary. 
We'll  be  glad  to  come  back  to  you  on  any  terms." 

"  And  now,  Leo,  look  here !  Here  is  my  baby  boy ; 
when  the  spring  comes  he  will  be  big  enough  for  you  to 
take  him  on  your  shoulder  and  ride  him  about !  Won't 
you  and  he  have  a  good  time  ?  " 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  what  a  purty  little  creetur !  But  he's 
very  little,  ain't  he,  ma'am  ?  "  said  Leo,  looking  shyly  at 
the  baby,  which  indeed  he  had  been  furtively  contemplat- 
ing ever  since  he  had  been  in  the  room. 

"  Why,  no,  Leo ;  for  his  age,  he  is  very  large,  very  I 
Who  is  he  like,  Leo !  Look  and  tell  me.!' 

Leo  dutifully  looked,  and  saw  well  enough  who  the  boy 
really  was  like  :  but  he  answered  stoutly : 

"  He  is  like  you,  ma'am,  and  nobody  else." 

"  Oh,  look  again,  Leo !  His  eyes  are  open  now.  N~ow 
who  is  he  like  ?  " 

"  He  is  the  image  of  you,  ma'am,  and  not  another 
mortial  in  the  wide  world,"  repeated  Leo,  defiantly. 

"  How  can  you  say  that,  you  stupid  boy  ?  Is  he  not 
like  his  father?" 

"  No,  mum  !  not  the  leastest  little  bit  in  life !  He  is 
like  nobody  but  you,"  persisted  the  lad,  doggedly. 

"  Leo,  you  are  a  mole !  You  have  no  eyes !  Now  go 
down  to  your  mother,  and  tell  her  to  make  you  comforta- 
ble." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am.  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  so  well, 
ma'am,  with  such  a  fine-looking  baby.  I  am  so  thankful 
as  you  don't  take  on  about  thinks  like  you  used  to  do," 
replied  the  lad. 


30  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  I  am  so  much  better  and  stronger  now,  Leo.  But  go 
and  give  my  message  to  your  mother." 

Leo  bowed  and  left  the  room. 

«  So  Alick  has  sold  Cedarwood,"  said  Anna. 

"Yes." 

"  What  a  wretch  !  " 

"  Please,  Anna " 

"  I  can't  comprehend  your  tenderness  for  that  man, 
Drusilla  !  but,  there !  I  will  not  wound  it  if  I  can  help  it. 
I  am  glad  he  has  sold  Cedarwood,  however.  It  settles 
the  question  of  your  future  residence.  You  must  stay 
with  us  now." 

As  Anna  spoke,  General  Lyon  entered  the  room,  and 
came  with  his  pleasant  smile  and  sat  down  beside  his 
protegee. 

She  turned  to  him,  and,  laying  her  hand  in  his,  said  : 

"  My  fate  is  decided  for  me,  dear  sir.  I  have  no  home 
but  this,  and  no  protector  but  you." 

"  My  darling,  I  am  very  glad." 

Yet,  in  saying  this,  the  General  looked  from  his  adopted 
niece  to  his  granddaughter,  as  if  for  an  explanation. 

Seeing  Drusilla  hesitate,  Anna  answered  for  her. 

"  Yes,  sir,  that  vill — I  mean  Mr.  Alexander  Lyon — has 
sold  Cedarwood." 

The  General  now  looked  from  his  granddaughter  back 
to  his  niece  as  if  demanding  confirmation  of  the  news. 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Drusilla,  casting  down  her  eyes — in 
regret  for  him,  not  in  sorrow  for  herself ;  "  he  has  sold 
Cedarwood,  but  then,  you  know,  dear  sir,  that  I  had  left 
the  house." 

A  flush  of  shame  crimsoned  the  cheek,  a  frown  of  anger 
darkened  the  brow  of  the  veteran  soldier. 

"  And  that  man  calls  himself  a  Lyon  and  my  nephew  ! 
I  am  glad  now  that  they  never  called  him  Leonard! 
There  never  was  a  rascally  Leonard  Lyon  yet !  And  I 
am  very  glad,  my  dear,  that  you  did  not  name  our  noble 
boy  here  Alexander !  The  inf  ern " 

Drusilla  raised  her  hand  with  an  imploring  and  depreca- 
ting gesture. 

"  Well,  well,  my  dear,  I  will  try  not  to  offend  again. 
It  is  true  that  an  old  soldier  has  a  right  to  swear  at  his 
degenerate  nephew ;  but  not  in  the  presence  of  ladies,  I 


A  MESSENGER.  31 

confess.  So  let  the  scound — I  mean  Alick — go.  Yes,  let 
him  go,  and  joy  go  with  him,  especially  as,  setting  the 
baseness  of  the  act  aside,  I  am  really  very  glad  he  has 
sold  Cedarwood  for  it  settles  the  question  of  your  resid- 
ence with  us,  my  dear." 

"And  I  am  glad  to  stay  here,"  answered  Brasilia,  with 
a  smile.  "  It  is  true  that  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  go  back 
to  Cedarwood,  and  await  there  the  pleasure  of  my  hus- 
band; and  I  should  have  risked  everything  and  gone 
there,  if  he  had  not  sold  the  place.  And  I  know  I  should 
have  had  to  wait  long  months  or  years  for  his  return ; 
and  I  should  have  been  very  lonely  and  dreary,  and 
should  have  missed  you  and  dear  Anna  and  Dick  very 
much.  No,  upon  the  whole,  I  cannot  say  that  I  am  sorry 
to  be  relieved  of  the  duty  of  going  back  to  Cedarwood  to 
live  alone,"  said  Brasilia,  frankly. 

"That's  my  girl!  Sorry?  no,  I  should  think  you 
would  not  be.  What  should  you  want  with  Cedarwood, 
trumpery  toy  cottage,  with  its  little  belt  of  copsewood, 
when  you  have  Old  Lyon  Hall  and  its  magnificent  sur- 
roundings of  forests  and  mountains  ? — to  say  nothing  of 
having  ME  and  Anna  and  Dick !  "  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
holding  out  his  hand  to  his  favorite. 

She  took  it  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips,  and  then  an- 
swered : 

"  Yet  I  love  the  pretty  little  wildwood  home ;  and 
some  day  I  will  buy  it  back  again,  even  if  I  have  to  pay 
twice  or  thrice  its  value." 

General  Lyon  looked  up,  surprised  to  hear  the  dis- 
carded wife  and  dependent  woman  talk  so  bravely  of  buy- 
ing estates  at  fancy  prices,  even  as  Anna  had  looked  at 
having  heard  her  speak  so  freely  of  retaining  her  old 
servants  at  double  wages.  Yet  both  were  pleased,  for 
they  said  to  themselves — "  This  proves  that  she  has  the  ( 
fullest  confidence  in  us,  and  knows  that  we  will  never 
let  her  feel  a  want,  even  a  fantastic  or  extravagant  want, 
unsupplied."  And  the  General  answered  : 

"  That  is  right,  my  dear  girl.  So  you  shall  buy  it  back 
— to-morrow,  if  you  like !  or  as  soon  after  as  we  can 
bring  the  present  proprietor  to  terms.  Mr.  Alexander 
shall  learn  that  some  things  can  be  done  as  well  as  others. 
But  Brasilia,  my  darling,  although  we  may  purchase  the 


82  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

place  and  restore  it,  I  do  not  mean  to  consent  that  you 
shall  ever  return  there  to  live  alone  ;  remember  that." 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  do  so,  sir.  I  will  never  leave  you 
until  my  husband  calls  me  back  to  him,"  said  Drusilla, 
giving  him  her  hand. 

"  That  is  right !  that  is  sensible !  Now,  since  you  are 
fond  of  that  little  bird-cage,  I  will  set  about  buying  it  for 
you  directly.  You  shall  have  it  for  a  New  Year's  gift ; 
and  then  if  you  must  see  the  place  sometimes,  why  we 
can  all  go  and  live  there  instead  of  at  a  hotel,  when  we 
go  to  Washington  for  the  season." 

"  Oh,  how  kind,  how  good  you  are  to  me,"  breathed 
Drusilla,  in  a  soft  and  low  tone,  with  deep  emotion ;  "  but 
dear  sir,  do  not  think  that  I  thank,  or  love,  or  bless  you 
any  the  less,  when  I  say  that  I  do  not  wish  this  as  a  gift 
from  your  munificent  hands.  Dear  uncle,  I  am  well 
able  to  afford  myself  the  pleasure  of  possessing  my  '  toy 
cottage.' " 

"  Ah !  he  has  provided  handsomely  for  you,  after  all ! 
Come  !  his  villainy  is  a  shade  less  black — I  beg  your  par- 
don, my  child !  I  won't  again  !  indeed  I  won't — I  mean 
his — transaction  is  a  shade  lighter  than  I  supposed  it. 
Well,  I  am  glad,  for  his  sake,  that  he  has  provided  for 
you.  But,  Drusilla,  my  child,  I  would  not  take  his 
money !  having  denied  you  his  love  and  protection  I 
would  take  nothing  else  from  him." 

"  Dear  uncle,  although  I  do  not  need  anything  from  my 
Alick  except  his  love,  yet,  should  he  offer  anything,  I 
would  gratefully  accept  it,  hoping  that  his  love  would 
follow.  But  you  are  mistaken — he  has  made  no  provision 
for  me." 

"  What  did  you  mean  then,  my  dear,  by  refusing  Cedar- 
wood  as  my  gift  and  saying  that  you  were  able  to  purchase 
it  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  large  fortune  in  my  own  right,  dear  sir." 

"  A  fortune  in  your  own  right !  "  echoed  Anna,  in  as- 
tonishment. 

"  You  never  mentioned  this  circumstance  before,  my 
dear,"  said  the  General,  in  surprise  and  incredulity. 

"  Indeed,  I  had  utterly  forgotten  it  until  my  servant 
arrived  with  these  letters  from  my  solicitors.  It  was  very 
stupid  of  me  to  forget  it ;  but,  dear  sir,  only  think  how 


A  MESSENGER.  33 

many  more  important  matters  there  were  to  drive  it  out 
of  my  head,"  replied  Brasilia,  deprecatingly. 

"  For  my  part,  I  do  not  think  that  anything  can  be 
more  important  to  you,  in  present  circumstances  than  the 
inheritance  of  a  large  fortune.  It  is  an  inheritance,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  sir, — from  my  grand-uncle,  a  merchant  of 
San  Francisco." 

"  And  how  large  is  the  fortune  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir — some  millions,  I  think.  Here  are 
the  lawyer's  letters.  I  have  not  looked  at  them  yet," 
said  Drusilla,  putting  the  "  documents  "  in  the  hands  of 
her  old  friend. 

"  Astounding  indifference ! "  he  murmured  to  himself 
as  he  put  on  his  spectacles  and  opened  the  letters. 

Drusilla  and  Anna  watched  him  attentively. 

"  Why,  my  dear  child,  you  are  a  billionaire  !  You  are 
probably  the  wealthiest  woman  in  America  ! "  exclaimed 
the  General,  in  astonishment.  "That  is,  if  there  is  no 
mistake  !  "  he  added.  "  Are  you  sure  you  are  the  right 
heiress  ?  "  taking  off  his  spectacles  and  gazing  at  Drusilla. 

"  I  am  quite  sure,  sir.  There  are  too  few  of  us  to  afford 
room  for  confusion.  In  my  grand-uncle's  generation, 
there  were  but  two  of  the  family  left — himself  and  his 
only  brother,  my  grandfather.  My  grand-uncle,  being  a 
woman  hater,  lived  and  died  a  bachelor.  My  grandfather 
married,  and  had  one  only  child — my  father :  who,  in  his 
turn,  also  married,  and  had  one  only  child — myself.  You 
see  how  plain  and  simple  is  the  line  of  descent  ?  " 

"  I  see,"  said  the  General,  reflectively ;  "  but,  my  dear, 
it  is  not  sufficient  for  a  set  of  facts  to  be  true  in  them- 
selves, they  must  be  capable  of  being  proved  to  the  satis- 
faction of  a  court  of  law.  Can  all  these  births,  marriages, 
and  deaths  be  proved,  Drusilla  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  sir ;  there  are  so  few  of  them — they  have 
occurred  within  so  short  a  time,  comparatively  speak- 
ing." 

"  In  what  manner,  my  dear  ?  Remember,  Drusilla,  that 
what  might  convince  you  or  me  of  a  fact  might  not  have 
the  same  effect  upon  a  court." 

"  All  that  I  have  said,  dear  sir,  can  be  established  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  most  scrupulous  court  that  ever  existed 
3 


34:  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

by  church  registers  and  court  records,  family  Bibles,  tomb- 
stones, papers,  letters,  and  personal  friends." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  And  you  know  where  all  these 
proofs  can  be  found  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Many  of  them,  Bibles,  letters,  documents, 
and  so  forth,  are  in  my  possession.  All  the  others  are  to 
be  found  in  Baltimore." 

"  Where  a  large  portion  of  your  inheritance  lies,  and 
where  your  lawyers  live  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Yes  ;  well,  my  dear,  if  all  this  is  as  you  suppose  it  to 
be — and  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  is  so — your  way  to  for- 
tune is  clear  enough  !  Let  me  congratulate  you,  my  dear, 
on  being,  perhaps,  the  richest  woman  in  America  ! "  said 
the  General,  shaking  her  hands  warmly. 

Anna  also  heartily  added  her  own  congratulations. 

"  And  now,  my  child,"  said  the  General,  kindly,  "  let  us 
attend  to  this  business  at  once.  Your  lawyers  are 
naturally  displeased  and  suspicious  at  your  long  delay, 
As  you  are  not  very  much  of  a  business  woman,  you  will 
let  me  take  these  letters  to  my  study  and  answer  them 
for  you." 

"  Oh,  if  you  would  be  so  kind,  dear  sir,  I  should  be  so 
happy." 


CHAPTER    V. 

FORTUNE. 

Fortune  is  merry, 
And  in  this  mood  will  give  us  anything — SHAKESPEARE. 

So  General  Lyon  answered  the  lawyers'  letters,  and  in 
a  more  satisfactory  manner,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  than 
Brasilia  had  ever  done.  His  illustrious  name  and  exalted 
position  were  in  themselves  enough  to  dispel  any  doubts 
that  the  mysterious  reticence  of  the  heiress  might  have 
raised  in  the  minds  of  her  solicitors. 

Having  sent  his  letter  off  to  the  post-office,  and  know- 
ing that  several  days  must  elapse  before  he  could  hear 
from  the  solicitors  again,  the  old  gentleman  dismissed  the 


FORTUNE.  35 

matter  from  his  mind,  and  addressed  himself  to  the  en- 
joyment of  the  Christmas  festival  now  at  hand. 

Dick  arrived  from  Richmond  on  Christmas  Eve,  having 
in  charge  several  large  boxes  containing  the  Christmas 
presents. 

Among  them  were  the  crib,  the  perambulator  and  the 
hobby-horse,  which  were  all  deposited  for  the  present  in 
the  room  selected  and  fitted  up  by  Anna,  as  the  future 
playroom  of  little  Master  Leonard  Lyon. 

Anna's  and  Brasilia's  presents  consisted  of  rich  and 
costly  furs  and  shawls,  from  the  General;  and  splendid 
jewels  and  delicate  laces  from  Dick. 

The  veteran's  gifts  were  a  pair  of  soft,  embroidered 
Velvet  slippers  and  smoking-cap,  from  Anna;  a  warm 
quilted  dressing-gown  from  Drusilla  ;  and  a  new  patent 
reading-chair  of  unequalled  ingenuity,  comfort  and  con- 
venience, from  Dick. 

Dick's  presents  were  a  fowling-piece  of  the  most  superior- 
workmanship,  from  his  uncle ;  an  embroidered  cigar  case 
from  his  betrothed ;  and  a  smoking-cap  from  Drusilla. 

Besides  these,  each  male  and  female  servant  in  the 
house  was  made  happy  in  the  possession  of  a  new  and 
complete  Sunday  suit. 

After  the  distribution  of  the  presents  on  Christmas; 
morning  the  family  went  to  church. 

At  the  end  of  the  service  they  returned  to  an  early 
dinner,  and  spent  the  afternoon  and  evening  in  social: 
enjoyment. 

As  usual  in  the  Christmas  holidays,  General  Lyon  gave 
one  large  party,  to  which  he  invited  all  his  friends  and 
acquaintances  for  thirty  miles  around. 

And  at  this  party  he  formally  introduced  Drusilla  as : 

"  My  niece,  Mrs.  Alexander  Lyon." 

And  this  he  did  with  so  much  quiet  dignity,  as  in  most 
cases  to  repress  all  expression  of  surprise  from  those  who 
could  not  fail  to  wonder  at  such  an  introduction.  And  if 
any  had  the  temerity  to  utter  their  astonishment,  they 
were  courteously  silenced  by  the  answer  of  the  stately 
old  gentleman. 

"  Old  people  cannot  and  ought  not  to  choose  for  their 
sons  in  affairs  of  the  heart.  I  had  hoped  that  my  nephew 
and  my  granddaughter  would  have  married  each  other, 


86  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

for  my  Oake  ;  but  I  was  wrong.  They  have  each  chosen 
partners  for  their  own  sakes;  and  they  were  right. 
Come  here,  Dick  :  Sir  and  madam,  let  me  present  to  you 
Mr.  Richard  Hammond  as  my  future  and  well-beloved 
grandson-in-law." 

After  that  what  could  the  gossips  say  or  do?  Of 
course  nothing  but  bow,  courtesy  and  congratulate ; 
though  some  among  them,  being  maliciously  inclined, 
and  envying  the  young  heiress  of  Old  Lyon  Hall  her 
beauty  and  her  wealth,  did  shrug  their  shoulders  and 
raise  their  eyebrows  as  they  whispered  together  :  That 
it  was  very  strange  Miss  Lyon's  marriage  being  put  off 
so  frequently  and  she  herself  at  last  passed  so  carelessly 
from  one  bridegroom  to  another  ;  and  that  it  looked  but 
too  likely  she  would  be  an  old  maid  after  all ;  for  she 
was  getting  on  well  in  years  now ! 

A  very  false  and  spiteful  conclusion  this,  as  the  beauti- 
ful Anna  was  not  yet  twenty-three  years  old. 

Some  even  had  the  ill-luck  to  inquire  of  the  General, 
or  of  Anna,  or  Dick  : 

"Where  is  Mr.  Alexander  Lyon  now?" 

But  the  quiet  answer  was  always  the  same  : 

"  In  "Washington,  attending  to  the  sale  of  some  real 
estate  there." 

And  the  conversation  would  be  quickly  turned. 

With  the  exception  of  these  annoying  questions,  im- 
plied or  directly  asked,  and  which  General  Lyon  knew 
must  be  sooner  or  later  met  and  answered,  and  which  he 
felt  had  best  be  settled  at  once,  the  party  passed  off  as 
pleasantly  as  any  of  its  predecessors  had  done. 

On  this  occasion  at  least  there  was  no  failure  upon 
account  of  the  weather.  There  never  was  a  finer  star- 
light winter  night  to  invite  people  out. 

Nor  was  there  any  tampering  with  the  lamps  of  the 
long  dra wing-room  ;  there  never  was  seen  a  more  bril- 
liantly lighted  and  warmed  saloon  to  entice  people  in. 

The  music  was  inspiring  ;  the  dancing  was  animated, 
the  supper  excellent.  The  festivities  were  kept  up  all 
night. 

And  did  Drusilla  enjoy  the  party  ? 

Of  course  she  did.  Why  not  ?  She  could  love  forever, 
but  she  could  not  grieve  forever.  She  was  experiencing 


FORTUNE.  37- 

a  delightful  reaction  from  her  long  depression  of  tpuits. 
She  was  young  and  beautiful,  and  formed  to  give  and  re- 
ceive pleasure  amid  these  Christmas  festivities.  In  a 
rich  white  moire  antique  dress,  delicately  trimmed  with 
black  lace  and  black  jet,  she  looked  exquisitely  pretty- 
To  please  her  friends  and  also  a  little  to  please  herself 
she  danced — first  with  General  Lyon,  who  led  her  to  the 
head  of  a  set  to  open  the  ball  ;  then  with  Dick,  and 
afterwards  with  any  others  whoin  her  uncle  introduced 
to  her.  And  all  who  made  her  acquaintance  were 
charmed  with  the  beauty  and  sweetness  of  the  lovely, 
childlike  creature. 

A  refreshing  breakfast  was  served  af  seven  o'clock  ; 
after  which,  the  guests,  well  pleased,  took  leave  and  de- 
parted by  the  light  of  the  rising  sun. 

Early  in  the  new  year,  "  mammy,"  well  paid  for  her 
faithful  services  and  loaded  with  tokens  of  her  patient's 
good- will,  took  leave  of  the  family  and  of  her  fellow- 
servants  and  left  Old  Lyon  Hall  to  return  to  her  own 
home  in  Alexandria. 

She  was  attended  by  Leo,  who  was  commissioned  to 
bring  down  Pina  and  the  birds,  the  dog,  the  cat,  and  the 
kittens ;  for  to  mammy's  perfect  content,  the  brother  and 
sister  were  again  to  enter  together  the  service  of  Mrs, 
Lyon. 

"I  have  brought  up  my  chillum  respectable  which  it 
is  allus  my  pride  and  ambition  so  to  do,  and  likewise  to 
have  them  engaged  in  service  long  o'  the  old  respectable, 
rustycratic  families,  which  none  can  be  more  so  than  the 
Lyonses  of  Old  Lyon  Hall,  and  that  to  my  sartain  knowl. 
edge,  which  has  heard  of  them  ever  since  I  was  born,'* 
said  mammy,  on  parting  with  her  gossip,  Marcy.  "  And 
I  hopes,  ma'am,"  she  added,  M  if  you  sees  my  young  people 
agoing  wrong,  you'll  make  so  free  for  my  sake  as  to  cor- 
rect them ;  which  their  missus,  the  young  madam,  is 
much  too  gentle-hearted  for  to  do  ;  but  gives  them  their 
own  head  far  too  much." 

Marcy  gave  a  promise  to  have  an  eye  upon  the  boy  and 
girl — a  promise  she  was  but  too  likely  to  keep. 

And  so  mammy  departed,  well  pleased. 

The  very  day  she  left,  the  wagons  from  Washington 
City,  containing  Brasilia's  personal  effects  from  Cedar- 

449121 


38  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

wood,  which  had  been  delayed  by  the  bad  condition  of 
the  roads,  arrived  at  Saulsburg. 

General  Lyon,  being  duly  apprised  of  the  circumstance 
by  a  messenger  from  the  "  Foaming  Tankard,"  sent  carts 
to  meet  them. 

But  more  than  one  day  was  occupied  with  the  removal. 

For  Alexander  Lyon,  either  from  pride,  compunction, 
or  a  faint  revival  of  the  old  love,  or  from  all  these  motives 
combined,  had  sent  down  not  only  Brasilia's  wardrobe 
and  books,  but  every  article  of  furniture  that  particularly 
appertained  to  her  use.  And  all  these  were  very  carefully 
packed,  so  as  to  sustain  no  injury  from  the  roughness  of 
the  roads  over  which  they  were  brought. 

There  was  first  a  whole  wagon  load  of  boxes  filled  with 
the  rich  and  costly  wearing  apparel  with  which  he  had 
overwhelmed  her  in  the  days  of  his  devotion. 

Then  there  was  another  load  composed  of  her  mosaic 
work-table,  sewing  chair,  and  footstool;  her  enameled 
writing-desk,  work-box  and  dressing-case ;  her  favorite 
sleepy  hollow  of  a  resting-chair ;  and  other  items  too 
numerous  to  mention. 

The  third  load  comprised  her  sweet-toned  cottage 
piano,  her  harp,  and  her  guitar. 

It  took  two  days  to  transport  these  things  from  Sauls- 
burg  to  Old  Lyon  Hall,  and  it  took  two  more  days  to  un- 
pack and  arrange  them  all  in  Brasilia's  apartments. 

The  fond  and  faithful  young  wife  contemplated  these 
dear  familiar  objects  with  a  strange  blending  of  tender- 
ness, regret  and  hope.  Each  item  was  associated  with 
some  sweet  memory  of  her  lost  home  and  lost  love.  But 
even  now  she  did  not  weep  ;  she  smiled  as  she  whispered 
to  her  heart : 

"  He  does  not  know  it,  but  he  loves  me  still ;  and  some 
day  he  will  come  and  tell  me  so.  I  can  wait  for  that 
bright  day,  Alick,  my  Alick,  when  I  shall  place  my  boy 
in  your  arms  and  tell  you  how  in  the  darkest  hours  I 
never  ceased  to  love  you  and  never  doubted  your  love  ! " 

She  was  absorbed  for  a  little  while,  and  then  once  more 
she  murmured  to  herself  in  her  beautiful  reverie : 

"  For  what  would  love  be  if  darkness  could  obscure  its 
light,  or  wrong  destroy  its  life  ?  " 

Ah !  if  this  devoted  young  wife  ever  does  succeed  in 


FORTUNE.  39 

WINNING  HER  WAY  to  the  heart  and  conscience  of  her 
husband,  she  will  do  it  through  the  power  of  her  love 
and  faith  alone. 

Before  the  week  was  out  Drusilla  had  another  pleasure, 
in  the  arrival  of  Leo  and  Pina  with  her  pets. 

She  received  them  all  with  gladness. 

"  Oh,  ma'am,"  exclaimed  Pina,  "  but  it  does  my  very 
heart  good  to  see  you  looking  so  rosy  and  bright-eyed  ! 
And  I'm  just  dying  to  see  young  Master  Leonard  !  And 
I  am  to  be  his  nurse,  ain't  I,  ma'am  ?  And  how  is  the 
dear  little  darling  pet  ?  And,  oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you 
looking  so  well  and  so  happy  ! " 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  see  you  also,  Pina,"  said  Drusilla, 
when  the  girl  had  stopped  for  want  of  breath.  "  I  hope 
you  left  your  mammy  well." 

"  Oh,  as  well  as  possible,  ma'am ;  but  with  baby  on  the 
brain  as  sure  as  she  lives,  in  regard  to  talking  about  little 
Master  Leonard,  which  she  stands  to  it  is  the  finest  baby 
as  ever  she  saw  among  the  hundreds  and  hundreds  as 
she  has  had  the  honor  of — of — of " 

Pina  paused  for  want  of  words  or  breath. 

"Of  first  introducing  to  their  friends  and  relations,*' 
added  Drusilla,  laughingly  coming  to  the  girl's  relief. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  that  is  the  way  to  put  it,"  said  Pina,  ap- 
provingly. "But  please,  ma'am,  may  I  see  little  Master 
Leonard  ?  "  she  pleaded,  eagerly. 

"  Go  with  Matty  first,  Pina.  She  will  show  you  the 
room  where  you  are  to  sleep,  and  which  joins  the  nursery. 
Wash  your  face  and  hands,  and  change  your  traveling 
dress  for  a  clean  one,  and  then  come  to  my  chamber, 
which  is  on  the  other  side  of  the  nursery,  and  I  will  show 
you  our  baby." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am.  Yes,  ma'am.  I  am  a  perfect 
show  for  dust  and  dirt,  I  know,  and  in  no  state  to  go  nigh 
a  dainty  little  baby,"  said  Pina,  courtesying,  and  then  foU 
lowing  Matty  from  the  sitting  parlor  where  this  interview 
had  taken  place. 

And  thus  Drusilla's  surroundings  at  Old  Lyon  Hall 
were  soon  arranged  to  her  perfect  satisfaction. 


40       /  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ENTERTAIXIXG    ANGELS. 

Little  can  we  tell,  who  share 

Our  household  hearth  of  love  and  care  ; 

Therefore  with  grave  tenderness, 

Should  we  strive  to  love  and  bless 

All  who  live  this  little  life, 

Soothing  sorrows,  calming  strife, 

Lest  we  wrong  some  seraph  here, 

Who  has  left  the  starry  sphere, 

Exiled  from  the  heavens  above, 

To  fulfil  some  mortal  love.— T.  POWELL. 

IN  the  course  of  the  next  week,  one  or  more  from  every 
family  who  had  been  invited  to  the  Christmas  party, 
called,  and  all  who  did  so,  left  cards  also  for  Mrs.  Alexander 
Lyon. 

Besides  this,  Mrs.  Colonel  Seymour,  the  nearest  neigh- 
bor  and  most  intimate  friend  of  the  Lyons,  issued  invita-, 
tions  for  a  large  party  to  come  off  on  Twelfth  Night., 
And  the  General,  Anna,  Brasilia  and  Dick,  each  received 
one. 

"  What  shall  you  wear,  Drusilla  ?  "  inquired  Anna,  as 
the  two  young  women  sat  together  looking  at  their  cards. 

"  Dear  Anna,  I  do  not  know  that  I  shall  go,"  answered 
Drusilla,  gravely. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  have  an  instinctive  feeling  that  I  should  live  very 
quietly  while  separated  from  my  husband— live,  in  fact 
as  I  should  have  lived,  if  I  had  gone  back  to  Cedarwood 
alone." 

"  If  you  had  gone  back  to  Cedarwood  alone,  it  woulcl 
have  been  eminently  necessary  for  you  to  have  lived  th< 
life  of  a  hermit,  to  save  your  reputation  from  utter  ruin  j 
and  even  then  you  could  not  have  saved  your  cnaractet 
from  misconstruction  and  misrepresentation.  But  no>r 
you  are  living  with  us,  which  makes  all  the  dirfer^nce. 
Here  you  may  freely  enjoy  all  the  social  pleasures  natural 


ENTERTAINING  ANGELS.  43, 

to  your  youth.  The  most  malignant  stabber  of  fair  fame 
that  ever  lived  would  never  dare  to  assail  a  lady  who  is 
a  member  of  General  Lyon's  family,"  said  Anna,  proudly. 
"  And  it  was  to  secure  this  freedom  of  action  and  these 
social  enjoyments  to  you,  no  less  than  to  shield  you  from 
danger  that  my  dear  grandfather  so  firmly  insisted  on 
your  remaining  with  us,"  she  added. 

"  Oh,  how  can  I  be  grateful  enough  to  him  for  all  his. 
loving  kindness  to  me  ?  Oh,  Anna,  under  Divine  Provi- 
dence, he  has  been  my  salvation ! "  exclaimed  Brasilia 
her  face  beaming  with  gratitude  and  affection. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  came  here  as  you  did,  my  dear 
and  gave  him  the  opportunity  of  doing  what  he  has  done. 
He  has  a  great  large  heart,  and  not  objects  enough  to  fill 
it.  He  is  very  fond  of  you  and  your  boy,  and  your  pres- 
ence here  makes  him  happier.  But '  to  return  to  our  mut- 
tons ' — about  this  party  at  the  Seymours.  Now,  as  to 
your  scruples  about  going  into  company,  instead  of  living 
secluded  on  account  of  Alexander's  desertion, — dismiss 
them  at  once.  Leaning  on  my  grandfather's  arm, — for 
he  is  to  be  your  escort,  and  Dick  mine, — you  can  go  any- 
where with  safety.  But,  if  there  is  any  otner  reason  why 
you  do  not  wish  to  go  to  the  Seymours,  of  course  you  can 
stay  at  home.  We  wish  you  to  use  the  most  perfect  free- 
dom of  action,  my  dear  Drusilla,  and  we  will  only  interfere 
when  we  see  you  inclined  to  immolate  yourself  upon  the 
pagan  altar  of  your  idol.  So,  in  the  matter  of  the  party, 
pray  do  as  you  please." 

"  Then,  if  you  and  uncle  think  it  right,  I  would  like 
very  much  to  go  with  you.  I  enjoy  parties.  I  enjoyed 
ours  very  much." 

"  I  should  think  you  did.  You  are  not  seventeen  years 
old  yet,  and  all  your  social  pleasures  are  to  come.  You 
were  the  beauty  of  the  evening,  my  little  cousin." 

"  Oh  no,  Anna,  oh,  no,  no,  no,  Anna  !  that  I  never  could, 
be  where  you  are ! "  exclaimed  Drusilla,  blushing  in- 
tensely with  the  earnestness  of  her  denial. 

"  Nonsense  !  I  am  an  old  maid.  I  am  quite  pas  see.  I 
,im  nearly  twenty-three  years  old,  and  have  been  out  five 
seasons !  "  laughed  Anna,  with  the  imperious  disdain  of 
her  own  words  with  which  a  conscious  beauty  sometimes 
says  just  such  things. 


42  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

u  Oh,  Anna>  Anna,  how  can  you  say  such  things  of  your- 
self ?  I  would  not  let  any  one  else  say  them  of  you, 
Anna !  Why,  Anna,  you  know  you  moved  through  your 
grandfather's  halls  that  night  a  perfect  queen  of  beauty. 
There  was  no  one  who  could  at  all  equal  or  approach 
you ! " 

"  Nonsense,  I  say  !  I  overheard  several  people  say 
that  I  was  not  looking  so  well  a  susual — that  I  had  seen 
my  best  days,  and  so  forth." 

"  They  were  envious  and  spiteful  people  whom  you  had 
eclipsed,  Anna,  and,  if  I  had  heard  them,  I  should  have 
given  them  to  know  it ! " 

"  You,  you  little  pigeon,  can  you  peck  ?  "  laughed  Anna. 

"  Pigeons  can  peck,  and  sharply  too,  I  assure  you.  And 
I  should  have  pecked  any  one  whom  I  heard  saying  im- 
pertinent things  of  you  ;  but  I  heard  nothing  of  the  sort — 
I  heard  only  praises  and  admiration.  But  there !  I  declare 
you  ought  not  to  disparage  yourself  so  as  to  oblige  me  to 
tell  the  truth  about  you  to  your  face,  for,  in  this  case, 
truth  is  high  praise,  and  it  is  perfectly  odious  to  have  to 
praise  a  friend  to  her  face,"  said  Brasilia. 

"  I  agree  with  you.  So,  if  you  will  let  me  have  the  last 
word  and  say  that  you  really  were  the  beauty  of  our  ball, 
I  will  consent  to  drop  the  subject.  And  now  for  the  other 
one !  So  you  would  like  to  go  to  the  Seymours  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  much,  for  I  enjoy  parties.  I  do  not  think 
I  should  like  to  go  to  one  every  day  or  even  every  week  ; 
but  once  or  twice  a  month  I  really  should  enjoy  them." 

"  What  a  moderate  little  belle !  Well,  and  now  comes 
the  next  important  question.  What  are  we  to  wear? 
Unluckily  we  cannot  order  the  carriage  and  drive  down 
the  street  to  the  most  fashionable  modistes  and  inspect 
the  newest  styles  of  dress  goods  and  head-dresses  and  all 
that,  as  if  we  were  in  the  city.  We  are  in  the  country, 
and  must  make  our  toilet  from  what  we  have  got  in  the 
house.  Heigh  ho !  it  is  a  great  bore,  being  so  far  away 
from  shops." 

"  But,  oh,  Anna,  we  have  got  so  much  in  the  house. 
Think  of  your  magnificent  trousseau,  with  scarcely  one  of 
your  many  dresses  touched  yet." 

«  That  is  all  very  well.  But  you  know  they  were  made 
and  trimmed  between  two  and  six  months  ago;  and 


ENTERTAINING  ANGELS.  43 

every  week  something  new  in  the  way  of  trimmings  and 
head-dresses  comes  up  in  town.  However,  we  must  da 
the  best  we  can.  It  is  a  country  ball  and  all  the  guests 
will  be  in  the  same  case,  that  is  one  comfort." 

"  Not  one  of  them  will  be  so  well  off  as  you  are  with 
your  trousseau." 

"  That  is  true,  and  that  is  another  comfort,  a  very  self- 
ish one  however.  Well,  let  me  see,  I  think  I  will  wear 
my  light  blue  taffeta,  with  a  white  illusion  over  it,  looped 
up  with  bluebells  and  lilies  of  the  valley,  with  a  wreath 
of  the  same.  How  will  that  do  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  very  pretty  and  tasteful." 

"  And  you,  my  darling  ?  What  have  you  'to  wear  ? 
You  know  my  dresses  fit  you,  and  my  wardrobe  is  quite- 
at  your  service." 

"  Thanks,  dear  Anna ;  but  I  have  a  great  plenty  of 
dresses  that  have  never  been  worn,  and  of  dress  goods 
that  have  never  been  made  up.  In  the  first  weeks  of 
our  married  life  my  dear  Alick  bought  every  rich  and 
pretty  thing  he  could  lay  his  hands  on  for  me." 

"  Very  well,  then.     What  shall  you  wear  ?  n 

M  You  know  that  being  in  the  second  year  of  my  mourn-, 
ing,  I  am  restricted  to  black  and  white.  I  think  a  black 
illusion  over  black  silk,  with  the  sleeves  and  bosom  edged 
•with  ruches  of  white  illusion ;  pearl  necklace  and  brace-, 
lets,  and  half  open  white  moss  roses  in  my  hair  and  on 
my  bosom ;  white  kid  gloves  and  a  white  fan.  There, 
Anna  dear,  I  have  given  you  a  complete  description  of 
my  intended  toilet. 

"  And  nothing  could  be  prettier.  Here  comes  grand- 
papa !  " 

And  at  that  moment  the  old  gentleman  entered  the 
room. 

"  Well,  my  dears,  if  we  are  immured  in  the  country  at 
this  festive  season  of  the  year,  we  are  not  likely  to  be 
very  dull,  are  we  ?  "  smiled  the  old  gentleman,  holding 
out' his  card. 

"  No  indeed,  sir ;  that  we  are  not !  But  what  do  you 
think  of  Brasilia  here  ?  She  was  really  meditating  upon 
the  propriety  of  giving  up  all  society,  and  living  the  life 
of  a  recluse,"  said  Anna,  mischievously. 

«  Well,  if  such  a  life  is  so  much  to  her  taste,  we  have 


44  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Ho  sort  of  right  to  object,"  the  old  man  replied,  in  the 
same  spirit  of  raillery. 

"  Bat  it  is  not  to  her  taste.  Brasilia  is  formed  by  na- 
ture and  disposition  to  enjoy  all  innocent  social  pleasures. 
But  she  imagined  that  in  her  peculiar  circumstances  it 
became  her  duty  to  retire  from  the  world  altogether." 

The  veteran  turned  his  clear  eyes  kindly  on  his  pro- 
tegee, and  taking  her  hand,  said : 

"  My  dear  child,  when  I  gave  you  a  daughter's  place  in 
my  heart  and  home,  and  took  a  father's  position  towards 
you,  I  became  responsible  for  the  safety  of  your  fair  fame 
as  well  as  for  your  person.  Both  are  perfectly  secure 
under  my  protection.  Xo  one  will  venture  to  assail  the 
one  more  than  the  other.  Go  wherever  Anna  goes,  enjoy 
all  that  she  enjoys.  It  is  even  well  that  you  should  have 
the  harmless  recreations  natural  to  your  youth,  and  that 
she  should  have  a  companion  of  her  own  sex.  And  I 
shall  always  be  your  escort." 

Drusilla  pressed  the  old  man's  hand  to  her  heart  and 
lips  ;  it  was  her  usual  way  of  thanking  him. 

And  this  quite  settled  the  question,  if  it  had  not  been 
settled  before. 

When  Twelfth  Day  came,  Anna  and  Drusilla,  beauti- 
fully attired  in  the  dresses  they  had  decided  upon, 
and  escorted  by  General  Lyon,  and  Dick,  went  to  the 
Seymours'  party. 

As  at  the  Christmas  ball,  Drusilla's  beauty  created  a 
great  sensation ;  not,  indeed,  that  she  was  more  beautiful 
than  Miss  Lyon,  but  her  beauty  was  of  a  fresher  type. 
As  before,  General  Lyon  was  her  first  partner,  and  Rich- 
ard Hammond  her  second.  And  after  that,  there  was 
great  rivalry  among  the  candidates  for  the  honor  of  her 
hand  But  she  danced  only  quadrilles ;  and  only  with 
those  presented  to  her  by  her  uncle.  This  ball,  like  all 
country  balls  was  kept  up  all  night.  But  General  Lyon's 
age  and  Drusilla's  maternal  solicitude,  both  rendered  it 
expedient  that  they  should  retire  early.  So  a  few  minutes 
after  twelve,  the  old  gentleman  and  his  protegee  took 
leave,  promising  that  the  coachman  should  have  orders 
to  return  at  daylight  and  fetch  Anna  and  Dick  home. 

After  this  followed  other  parties  given  by  the  country 
gentry.  And  to  all  of  them  the  Lyons  were  invited,  and 


ENTERTAINING  ANGELS.  4£ 

m  ail  the  invitations  Drusilla  was  included.  And  the 
lovely  young  wife  was  admired  by  all  who  saw  her,  and 
beloved  by  those  who  came  to  know  her  well. 

Occasionally,  embarrassing  questions  were  asked  by 
those  who  had  more  curiosity  than  tact,  but  they  were  al- 
ways skilfully  parried  by  the  party  to  whom  they  were  put. 

For  instant,  when  some  old  crony  would  venture  to  ask 
the  General  how  it  was  that  Mr.  Alick  had  married  this 
clergyman's  orphan  daughter  when  all  the  world  sup- 
posed him  to  be  about  to  marry  his  cousin  Anna,  the 
General  would  answer  as  before : 

"  That  projected  marriage  was  a  plan  of  mine  and  of 
my  brother's ;  and  as  it  was  based  upon  our  own  wishes 
rather  than  on  the  affections  of  our  young  people,  it  did 
not  succeed,  and  did  not  deserve  to  do  so.  The  aged 
cannot  choose  for  the  young  in  affairs  of  the  heart.  My 
nephew  married  this  charming  girl  privately  one  year 
ago,  and  the  ceremony  was  repeated  publicly  in  my  house 
two  months  since.  I  gave  the  bride  away.  And  I  am 
very  much  charmed  with  my  niece.  My  grand-daughter 
Anna,  and  my  grandnephew,  Richard  Hammond,  will  be 
united  hi  a  few  months.  " 

"  But  where  is  the  happy  bridegroom  now  ?  "  might  be 
the  next  question. 

"  Alexander  is  hi  Washington  negotiating  the  sale  of 
real  estate,"  would  be  the  answer. 

Sometimes  a  troublesome  questioner,  in  the  form  of 
some  young  friend  or  companion  would  assail  Anna,  in 
some  such  way  as  this : 

"  Well,  we  were  never  more  surprised  in  our  lives  than 
when  we  found  out  that  Alick  Lyon  had  married  a  par- 
son's daughter  without  a  penny.  We  thought  you  were 
going  to  take  him,  Anna  ?  " 

"  But  I  preferred  Dick,"  would  be  Anna's  frank  reply., 

"  Then  I  suppose  he  married  the  clergyman's  daughter 
in  a  fit  of  pique.  " 

"  Not  at  all ;  it  was  in  a  fit  of  love. " 

"  And  she  quite  penniless. " 

M I  beg  your  pardon,  she  is  a  very  wealthy  woman. " 

"What!  the  clergyman's  daughter?" 

"  Yes,  for  she  is  a  billionaire's  niece,  and  a  sole  heiress.  ** 

"  Oh !  then  it  was  a  mercenary  match  ?  " 


46  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

**  iNot  at  all,  for  he  knew  nothing  of  her  fortune  when 
he  married  her.  And  now,  also,  please  remember  you  are 
speaking  of  my  cousins.  " 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  Anna !  I  mean  no  harm ;  and  you 
know  you  and  I  are  such  old,  old  friends !  " 

Very  often  it  would  be  Richard  Hammond  who  would 
be  called  to  the  witness  stand  with  a — 

"  Hillo,  Dick !  so  you  are  a  lucky  dog  after  all !  How 
was  it  now  ?  Come,  tell  us  all  about  it !  Did  you  cut 
Alick  out  with  Anna,  or  did  the  pretty  little  parson's 
daughter  cut  Anna  out  with  Alick  ?  " 

"  Each  one  of  us  cut  all  the  others  out, "  Dick  would 
reply,  with  owl-like  gravity. 

"  Eh  ?  what  ?  stop,  don't  go  away !  How  can  that  be  ? 
We  don't  understand ! " 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  that's  your  look  out.  I  can't  make 
you  understand." 

And  so  Dick  would  turn  off  impertinent  inquiry. 

Fortunately,  also,  everywhere  Drusilla's  face  and 
manners  inspired  perfect  confidence  and  warm  esteem 
No  one  could  look  on  her,  or  hear  her  speak,  and  doubt 
her  goodness. 

"  It  is  very  queer.-  There's  a  screw  loose  somewhere ; 
but  whoever  may  be  wrong,  she  is  all  right,"  was  the 
Verdict  of  the  neighborhood  in  the  young  wife's  favor. 

Meanwhile  a  very  brisk  correspondence  went  on  between 
"General  Lyon  on  one  part,  and  Messrs.  Henage  and  Kent 
{Drusilla's  lawyers)  on  the  other.  The  General  soon  con- 
vinced the  legal  gentlemen  that  Anna  Drusilla  Lyon,  bom 
Stirling,  was  the  heiress  of  whom  they  were  in  search. 

Still,  where  so  much  was  at  stake,  they  were  bound  to 
be  very  cautious  and  to  receive  nothing,  not  the  very 
smallest  fact,  upon  trust. 

So,  though  General  Lyon  very  seldom  troubled  Dru- 
«illa  with  this  correspondence,  he  did  sometimes  feel 
obliged  to  come  to  her  for  information  as  to  where  a 
certain  important  witness  was  to  be  found ;  in  what  cem- 
etery a  particular  tombstone  was  to  be  looked  for ;  or  in 
what  parish  church  such  a  marriage  had  been  solemnized, 
or  such  a  baptism  administered. 

And  Drusilla's  prompt  and  pointed  answers  very  much 
cleared  and  expedited  the  business. 


ENTERTAINING  ANGELS.  47 

In  a  more  advanced  stage  of  affairs  it  seemed  that  she- 
would  have  to  go  up  to  Baltimore  ;  but  General  Lyon  would 
not  hear  of  her  taking  any  trouble  that  he  could  save  her ; 
so  he  wrote  to  the  legal  gentlemen,  requesting  one  of  the 
firm  to  come  down  to  Old  Lyon  Hall  in  person,  or  to  send 
a  confidential  clerk,  and  promising  to  pay  all  expenses  of 
traveling,  loss  of  time,  and  so  forth. 

In  answer  to  this  letter,  Mr.  Kent,  the  junior  partner, 
arrived  at  the  old  hall  early  in  February. 

He  was  armed  with  a  formidable  bag  of  documents  and 
he  was  closeted  all  day  long  with  General  Lyon  in  the 
study. 

One  can  have  no  secrets  from  one's  lawyer  any  more 
than  from  one's  physician  or  confessor ;  and  so  General 
Lyon  felt  constrained  to  tell  Mr.  Kent  of  the  existing 
estrangement  between  the  heiress  and  her  husband. 

"  And  what  I  particularly  wish,"  said  the  General,  confi- 
dentially and  earnestly,  "  is  that  the  whole  of  this  large 
inheritance,  coming  as  it  does  from  her  family,  may  be 
secured  to  her  separate  use,  independently  of  her  hus- 
band." 

"And  that,  you  are  aware,  cannot  be  done,  except 
though  a  process  of  law.  She  must  sue  for  a  separate 
maintenance.  Even  in  such  a  case  I  doubt  whether  the 
court  would  adjudge  her  the  whole  of  this  enormous 
fortune,  or  even  the  half  of  it.  Still  it  is  her  only  resource," 
answered  Lawyer  Kent. 

"  A  resource  she  will  never  resort  to.  It  would  be  vain 
and  worse  than  vain  to  suggest  it  to  her.  She  worships 
her  husband  ;  and  it  is  through  no  fault  of  hers  that  they 
are  estranged.  Indeed  it  was  through  consideration  for 
him  that  she  was  so  reticent  last  year,  as  to  raise  suspicions 
in  your  mind  that  her  claim  to  the  estate  was  an  unjustly 
assumed  one.  .  No,  Mr.  Kent,  we  must  take  some  other 
course  to  secure  the  inheritance  to  her,  and  without  say-* 
ing  a  word  to  her  on  the  subject  either." 

"  There  is  no  other  way,  sir,  but  by  such  a  suit  as  I 
have  suggested." 

"  Pardon  me  I  think  there  is.  Mr.  Alexander  Lyon 
has  deserted  his  wife  and  child  and  failed  to  provide  for 
them.  Such  is  not  the  course  of  an  honorable  man. 
Still,  as  some  of  the  same  sort  of  blood  that  warms  my 


48  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

own  old  heart  runs  also  in  his  veins,  there  must  be  some 
little  sense  of  honor  sleeping  somewhere  in  his  system. 
We  must  awaken  it  and  appeal  to  it.  He  must  of  his 
own  free  will  make  over  all  his  right,  title  and  interest 
in  this  inheritance  to  his  injured  young  wife." 

"  Does  he  know  of  this  inheritance,  sir  ?  " 

"  Not  one  word,  I  think." 

"  Do  you  believe  that  he  will  act  as  you  wish  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it.  Without  this  fortune 
of  his  wife,  he  is  as  rich  as  Croasus ;  and  he  is  also  as 
proud  as  Lucifer.  Having  discarded  her,  he  would  not 
touch  a  penny  of  her  money,  if  it  was  to  save  his  own 
life  or  hers.  So  it  is  not  because  I  think  he  would  waste, 
or  even  use  her  means,  that  I  wish  her  fortune  settled 
upon  herself,  but  because  I  wish  her  to  be  totally  inde- 
pendent of  him  and  to  be  able  to  do  her  own  will  with 
tier  own  money." 

"I  see,"  said  Mr.  Kent.  "Where  is  Mr.  Alexander 
Lyon  now  ?  " 

"  In  Washington  City,  where  I  would  like  you  to  call 
upon  and  apprise  him  of  this  large  inheritance  and  of  our 
wishes  in  regard  to  it." 

"  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure.  Pray  give  me  your  in- 
structions at  large,  and  also  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
Mr  Lyon." 

"  I  had  almost  sworn  never  to  hold  any  communica- 
tion with  that  man  again.  Bat  for  his  wife's  dear  sake  I 
will  write  the  letter.  And  now  Mr.  Kent,  there  is  our 
first  dinner-bell.  Allow  me  to  ring  for  a  servant,  who 
will  show  you  to  a  chamber  prepared  for  you.  I  will 
await  you  here  and  take  you  to  the  dining-room." 

The  dust-covered  lawyer  bowed  his  thanks  and  fol- 
lowed the  servant  who  was  called  to  attend  him. 

At  dinner  that  day,  the  lawyer,  for  the  first  time  met 
his  beautiful  client,  Mrs.  Alexander  Lyon.  And  with  all 
his  experience  of  mankind,  great  was  his  wonder  that  any 
man  in  his  sober  senses  could  have  abandoned  such  a 
lovely  young  creature. 

Mr.  Kent  stayed  two  days  at  Old  Lyon  Hall,  and  then, 
primed  with  instructions  and  with  a  letter  to  Alexander, 
ne  left  for  Washington  and  Baltimore. 

It  happened  just  as  General  Lyon  had  predicted. 


ENTERTAINING  ANGELS.  49 

Alexander,  sulking  at  his  apartments  in  one  of  the 
most  fashionable  hotels  in  the  Capital,  received  the  law- 
yer's  visit  and  his  uncle's  letter. 

He  was  immeasurably  astonished  at  the  announcement 
of  his  wife's  inheritance  of  an  enormous  fortune.  At 
first,  indeed,  he  listened  to  the  intelligence  with  scornful 
incredulity  ;  but  when  convinced  beyond  all  doubt  of  the 
truth,  his  amazement  was  unbounded.  He  had  never  be- 
fore heard  of  the  California  billionaire,  and  could  not  now 
realize  the  fact  that  poor  Brasilia  was  a  great  heiress. 
He  scarcely  succeeded  in  concealing  from  the  lawyer  the 
excess  of  his  amazement.  He  was,  literally,  almost 
"  stunned  "  by  the  news. 

The  lawyer's  time  was  precious  ;  so,  barely  giving  Mr. 
Alexander  a  minute  to  recover  his  lost  breath,  and  acting 
upon  General  Lyon's  instructions  he  proposed  to  the  hus- 
band to  resign  the  whole  of  her  newly-inherited  wealth 
to  his  discarded  wife. 

Alexander  arose,  a  proud  disdain  curling  his  lips  and 
flashing  from  his  eyes,  and  answered  haughtily : 

"  Unquestionably,  sir !  Prepare  the  proper  papers  with 
your  utmost  despatch.  I  had  intended  to  sail  for  Europe 
hi  Saturday's  steamer,  but  I  will  forfeit  my  passage  and 
wait  here  until  these  deeds  shall  be  executed  ;  for  I  could 
no  more  bear  to  hold  an  hour's  interest  in  her  inheritance 
than  I  could  bear  any  other  sort  of  ignominy.  How  soon 
can  the  documents  be  ready  ?  " 

Mr.  Kent  could  not  tell  within  a  day  or  two — lawyers 
never  can,  you  know,  But  he  engaged  to  prepare  them 
very  early  in  the  next  week,  in  time  for  Mr.  Lyon  to  em- 
bark upon  his  voyage  on  the  following  Saturday. 

And  so  Lawyer  Kent  went  on  his  way  to  Baltimore 
musing : 

"  He  is  a  splendid  fellow,  and  she  is  a  sweet  young 
creature ;  they  are  an  admirable  pair !  What  the  mis- 
chief can  have  come  between  them  ? — ah,  the  devil,  of 


course ! 


t » 


Mr.  Kent  was  as  good  as  his  word.  On  Tuesday  morn- 
ing, lie  placed  the  requisite  deeds  in  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Lyon,  who,  in  the  presence  of  several  witnesses  and  be- 
fore a  notary-public,  formally  signed,  sealed,  and  delivered 
them  again  into  the  custody  of  the  lawyer. 


50  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

And,  on  Thursday  evening,  Mr.  Kent  arrived  at  Old 
Lyon  Hall,  to  announce  the  successful  termination  of  the 
whole  business,  and  to  congratulate  his  client  on  her  ac- 
cession to  one  of  the  largest  fortunes  in  America. 

"  And  I  think,  my  dear,"  whispered  General  Lyon  to 
his  protegee,  "  that  you  cannot  better  show  your  sense  of 
these  gentlemen's  zeal  in  your  cause  than  by  making 
them  your  agents  in  the  management  of  your  financial 
affairs." 

"  I  perfectly  agree  with  you,  my  dear  uncle.  Tell  them 
so,  please,"  replied  Drusilla. 

And  so  it  was  arranged ;  and  Mr.  Kent  went  on  his 
way  rejoicing,  "  having  made  a  good  thing  of  it." 

"  And  Alick  has  signed  over  to  me  all  his  material  in- 
terest in  my  fortune!  Well,  I  know  he  did  not  need 
any  part  of  it ;  but  he  would  have  been  welcome,  oh,  so 
heartily  welcome,  to  the  whole.  At  most,  I  only  should 
have  wanted  enough  to  buy  back  dear  Cedarwood,"  said 
Drusilla  to  her  gossip,  Anna,  as  they  sat  together  in  the 
nursery. 

"He  did  right.  How  could  he  have  done  otherwise 
under  the  circumstances  ?  Even  you,  with  all  your  lov- 
ing faith,  must  have  despised  him  if,  after  forsaking  you, 
he  had  taken  any  part  of  your  fortune,"  said  Anna. 

Drusilla  blushed  intensely,  at  the  bare  supposition  that 
her  Alick  could  do  anything  to  make  her  loyal  heart 
despise  him,  and  she  answered  warmly : 

"  But  he  did  not  do  it !  He  would  never  do  such  a 
thing.  If  my  Alick  has  ever  erred  it  has  been  under  the 
influence  of  some  great  passion  amounting  almost  to  mad- 
ness !  He  would  not  do  wrong  in  cold  blood." 

Anna  did  not  gainsay  her.  Miss  Lyon  had  quite  given 
up  arguing  with  the  young  wife  on  the  subject  of  her 
husband's  merits.  If  Drusilla  had  chosen  to  assert  that 
Alexander  was  the  wisest  of  sages,  the  bravest  of  heroes 
and  the  best  of  saints,  Anna  would  not  openly  have  dif- 
fered with  her.  But  now  she  turned  the  conversation 
from  his  merits  to  his  movements. 

"Alick  sails  for  Europe  to-morrow,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  so  Mr.  Kent  says.  But  do  you  know  what 
steamer  he  goes  in,  Anna  ?  Mr.  Kent  did  not  happen  to 
name  it,  and  I  shrank  from  asking  him." 


HALCYON  DAYS.  51 

«  There  is  but  one — the  Erie.    I  suppose,  of  course,  he 
on  that.     However,  on  Monday  we  shall  get  the  New 
rork  papers,  and  then  we  can  examine  the  list  of  passen- 
gers, and  see  if  his  name  is  among  them,"  said  Anna. 

And  with  that  answer  the   young  wife  had  to  rest 
satisfied. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

\ 

HALCYON    DAYS. 

A  course  of  days,  composing  happy  weeks, 

And  they  as  happy  months  ;  the  day  is  still 

So  like  the  last,  as  all  so  firm  a  pledge 

Of  a  congenial  future,  that  the  wheels 

Of  pleasure  move  without  the  aid  of  hope. — WORDSWORTH. 

VERY  early  on  Monday  morning  Jacob  Junior  was  dis- 
patched to  Saulsburg  to  meet  the  mail  and  fetch  the 
papers.  The  messenger  was  so  diligent  that  he  brought 
in  the  bag  and  delivered  it  to  his  master  while  the  family 
sat  at  breakfast. 

There  were  no  letters  for  anybody,  but  all  the  last  Sat- 
urday's papers  had  come. 

General  Lyon  distributed  them.  A  New  York  evening 
journal  fell  to  Anna's  share.  She  turned  immediately  to 
look  for  the  news  of  the  outward  bound  steamers.  She 
soon  found  what  she  was  in  search  of.  And  as  Alick's 
name  was  still  a  tacitly  dropped  word  in  the  presence  of 
her  grandfather,  she  silently  passed  the  paper  to  Drusilla, 
and  pointed  to  the  list  of  passengers  for  Liverpool  who 
sailed  by  the  Erie,  from  New  York,  on  the  Saturday 
previous. 

Drusilla  looked  and  read  among  them : 

"  Mr.  Alexander  Lyon  and  two  servants." 

"  Drusilla  nodded  and  smiled,  saying  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  It  is  better  so,  for  the  present.  I  hope  that  he  will 
enjoy  himself  and  come  home  in  a  happier  frame  ol 
mind." 

"  Of  whom  are  you  speaking,  my  child  ?  "  inquired  the 
General,  raising  his  eyes  from  a  report  of  the  last  great 
iebate  in  the  Senate. 


52  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Of  Alick.  He  sailed  in  the  Erie  for  Liverpool  on  last 
Saturday,"  answered  Drusilla,  quite  calmly. 

«  Ah  !  he  did  ?  Well,  I  think  it  about  the  best  thing 
he  could  have  done.  I  hope  he  will  stay  there  until  he 
comes  to  his  senses.  Joy  go  with  him !  "  heartily  ex- 
claimed the  old  gentleman. 

"  Dear  uncle  !  "  pleaded  Drusilla. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  what  now  ? '"  I  said,  "  Joy  go  with 
him.  That  was  a  benediction,  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  I  thought  it  was  a  sarcasm,"  said  Drusilla,  archly. 

The  General  coughed  slightly  and  returned  to  the 
perusal  of  the  debate. 

So  Mr.  Alexander  had  betaken  himself  to  parts  un- 
known, and  Drusilla  was  by  no  means  broken-hearted  on 
that  account. 

All  the  tears  she  was  ever  destined  to  shed  for  him 
seemed  already  to  have  fallen ;  all  the  heart-aches  she 
was  ever  to  feel  for  him  seemed  already  to  have  been 
suffered  and  forgotten. 

Understand  once  for  all  that,  though  she  loved  him  as 
faithfully  and  hoped  in  him  as  trustfully  as  ever,  she  no 
longer  mourned  his  absence. 

I  repeat  it — she  could  love  forever  and  hope  forever, 
but  she  could  not  grieve  forever — not  with  her  beautiful 
bright  boy  before  her  eyes. 

It  was  delightful  to  see  the  young  mother  at  this  time 
of  her  life.  She  was  the  sunshine  of  that  sweet  old  home. 
All  the  joyousness,  hopefulness  and  truthfulness  of  child- 
hood seemed  to  have  returned  to  her  ;  or,  rather,  as  her 
own  childhood  had  not  been  a  particularly  happy  one,  to 
have  come  to  her  for  the  first  time  with  her  child. 

She  sang  in  her  nursing  chair,  or  at  her  needle- work, 
all  the  morning ;  she  sang  at  the  piano,  or  the  harp,  or 
sang  duets  with  Anna  or  Dick  in  the  evening.  She  had 
a  clear,  sweet,  elastic  voice,  a  pure  soprano,  perfectly 
adapted  to  the  bird-like  carols  that  she  most  favored. 

General  Lyon,  whose  passion  for  music  had  survived 
all  other  enthusiasms,  and  had  even  increased  with  his 
declining  years,  seemed  never  to  grow  weary  of  her  de- 
licious notes. 

This  pleased  Anna. 

«  Dear  grandpa,"  she  would  often  repeat^  "  I  am  so  glad 


HALCYON  DAYk.  53 

S)U  have  uer  here ;  and  will  have  hei  wilu.  you  when 
ick  takes  me  away.  It  will  be  such  a  comfort  to  me  to 
feel  you  are  not  lonesome." 

u  I  don't  know  how  that  may  be,  my  dear.  The  more 
I  see  of  our  darling,  the  more  inclined  I  am  to  think  that 
fellow  will  come  to  his  senses  and  claim  her  from  us  be- 
fore we  are  willing  to  resign  her.  And  then  what  shall 
I  do  ?  "  the  old  man  once  inquired,  with  a  sigh. 

And  then  Brasilia  put  her  hand  hi  his,  and  looked  up 
hi  his  eyes  with  all  a  daughter's  devotion,  and  answered : 

"  Dear  uncle,  you  sheltered  me  when  I  had  not  a  friend 
hi  the  world.  You  saved  my  life  and  my  boy's  life.  You 
gave  him  your  name,  and  gave  us  both  a  home.  And  I 
will  never  leave  you  alone,  never — not  even  for  him  will 
I  leave  you,  until  Anna  and  Dick  come  home  from  their 
bridal  tour  to  leave  you  no  more." 

"  I  know  it,  my  child,  I  know  it ;  I  need  no  assurance 
from  you  to  teach  me  how  unselfish  you  are.  But,  my 
dear  girl,  do  you  think  I  would  permit  you  to  sacrifice 
your  happiness  for  my  sake  ?  No,  dear  Drusilla,  when 
our  prodigal  comes  to  himself  and  seeks  your  love  again, 
you  will  be  ready  and  eager  to  be  reunited  to  him  and 
you  must  go  with  him,  although  I  should  be  left  alone. 
And  this  for  your  happiness,  which  must  not  be  sacrificed 
for  me." 

"  Happiness  ?  sacrificed  ?  Oh,  uncle !  father,  dear, 
dear  friend  !  you  do  not  know  my  heart.  The  happiness 
would  be  in  staying  with  you  to  solace  your  solitude ;  the 
sacrifice  would  be  in  leaving  you  alone.  I  could  not  and 
would  not  do  it,  no,  not  even  for  my  dear  Alick.  Nor 
would  he  wish  it ;  for  when  he  '  comes  to  himself,'  as 
you  say,  he  will  come  to  his  better,  nobler  self, — his  just 
and  true  self." 

"  Ah  !  my  darling,  you  have  great  faith  in  that  man." 

"  Because  I  judge  him  by  the  whole  tenor  of  his  past 
life,  and  not  by  the  last  few  months  of  moral  insanity ! " 

"  May  Heaven  justify  your  faith,  my  dear,"  replied  the 
veteran. 

Soon  after  the  Christmas  and  New  Year's  festivities 
were  over,  Richard  Hammond  made  a  move  towards  ter- 
minating his  visit.  But  poor  Dick's  nature  was  so  per- 
fectly transparent  that  every  one  knew  it  was  a  most  re- 


54:  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

luctant  move.  General  Lyon,  Anna  and  Drusilla  all  knew 
that  Dick  was  very  desirous  of  staying  at  Old  Lyon  Hall, 
and  they  all  felt  that  the  "  unlucky  dog,"  would  be  much 
safer  with  his  relations  in  the  country  than  among  his 
"  friends  "  in  the  city.  So  when  Dick  at  length  named 
an  early  day  in  February  for  his  departure,  the  General 
said: 

"  Nonsense,  boy,  stay  where  you  are." 

"  I  should  be  glad  enough  to  stay,"  Dick  frankly  an- 
swered, "  but  you  see  I  feel  I  am  trespassing.  Bless  my 
soul  and  life,  sir,  I  have  been  here  nearly  three  months." 

«  What  of  that  ?  Stay  three  years.  Stay  three  cen- 
turies if  you  live  so  long.  My  boy,  all  counted,  we  are 
but  four ;  not  enough  to  crowd  this  big  old  house ;  not 
enough  to  fill  it,  or  half  fill  it.  So,  if  you  find  yourself  at 
ease  among  us,  remain  with  us." 

**  But  you  see,  dear  grandpa,"  said  Anna,  wickedly,  "  he 
is  not  at  ease  among  us.  He  is  very  restless  with  us.  He 
is  longing  to  get  back  to  the  city.  He  is  pining  for  the 
society  of  his  esteemed  friends — the  gallant  Captain  Red- 
ing and  the  brave  Lieutenant  Harpe." 

"  Oh,  Anna,  Anna !  that  was  bloodthirsty  !  "  said  Dick 
in  a  grieved  and  outraged  manner. 

"  Then  if  that  is  not  so,  what  is  the  attraction  to  the 
city,  Dick  ?  "  laughed  Anna. 

"  Nothing  at  all.    You  know  that  as  well  as  I  do." 

Anna  did  know  it,  but  for  all  that  she  answered  mali- 
ciously : 

"  Then  I  can't  think  why  you  wish  to  leave  us." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  leave  you.  I  would  much  rather  stay. 
I  have  been  here  so  long,  I  might  well  suppose  that  I  had 
worn  out  my  welcome.  But  as  you  and  uncle  are  kind 
enough  to  tell  me  that  I  have  not,  I  vsitt  stay,  and  *  thank 
you  too,'  as  the  girl  said  to  the  boy  that  asked  her  to  have 
him." 

"  And  don't  take  it  into  your  head  again,  Dick,  that  you 
are  wearing  out  your  welcome.  When  we  get  tired  of  you, 
Dick,  I  will  take  it  upon  myself  to  send  you  about  your 
business." 

"  Very  well,  Anna.     I  hope  you  will  do  so." 

In  truth,  Dick  had  enough  to  keep  him  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. Hammond  House  and  Hammondville,  forming  the 


HALCYON  DAYS.  55 

greater  portion  of  the  landed  estate  he  had  recently  in- 
herited, lay  within  a  few  miles  of  Old  Lyon  Hall. 

The  whole  place  was  now  in  charge  of  a  resident  bailiff 
who  was  instructed  to  put  it  in  thorough  repair  for  the  re- 
ception of  its  new  master.  And  these  repairs  were  going 
on  as  fast  as  circumstances  would  permit. 

The  outdoor  work  was  of  course  frequently  suspended 
during  the  inclemency  of  the  weather.  But  the  house  was 
rilled  with  carpenters,  plasterers,  painters  and  paper- 
hangers. 

And  it  was  well  that  Dick  should  occasionally  ride  there 
to  overlook  these  workmen.  The  most  careful  instructions 
are  not  often  carried  out,  under  these  circumstances,  with- 
out the  frequent  presence  of  the  master. 

It  was  thought  expedient  also  that  Anna,  whose  home 
it  would  sometime  be,  should  be  taken  into  the  counsels 
and  accompany  Dick  in  his  visits  of  inspection  to  Ham- 
mond House.  And  whenever  the  weather  permitted  she 
went  there  with  him. 

Hammond  House  was  not  to  be  their  permanent  home, 
however.  During  the  life  of  General  Lyon,  they  were  to 
live  at  Old  Lyon  Hall. 

Three  times  a  week,  when  the  mail  came  into  Sauls- 
burg  and  the  letters  and  papers  were  brought  to  Old  Lyon 
Hall,  Drusilla  turned  to  the  ship-news.  At  length  she 
saw  announced  the  safe  arrival  of  the  Erie  at  Liverpool. 
And  then  she  knew  that  was  the  last  of  even  indirect 
news  she  might  hope  to  hear  of  Alexander. 

But  she  was  not  depressed  on  that  account.  Her  faith, 
hope  and  love  were  strong.  Everybody  was  very  good  to 
her.  Her  baby  boy  was  growing  in  strength,  beauty  and 
intelligence. 

The  spring  was  to  be  early  this  year.  The  latter  days 
of  February  were  bright  and  lovely  harbingers  of  its  quick 
approach. 

In  the  finest  hours  of  the  finest  days  Drusilla  took  her 
baby  out  for  short  drives  around  the  park — the  nurse 
dragging  the  little  carriage  and  the  mother  walking  by 
its  side,  and  Leo  often  following  to  open  gates  or  remove 
obstacles. 

There  was  not  unfrequently  a  high  dispute  between  the 
brother  and  sister  as  to  who  should  take  care  of  the  baby. 


56  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Leo  insisted  that  as  the  baby  was  a  boy,  it  was  his 
right  to  have  charge  of  him,  and  declared  that  he  could 
see  no  fitness  at  all  in  a  girl  setting  herself  up  to  nurse  a 
boy. 

Pina  retorted  that  such  a  thing  as  a  male  nurse  never 
was  heard  of  either  for  male  or  female  child. 

Leo  would  then  bring  forward  his  mistress's  promise 
that  he  himself  should  have  a  good  time  with  little  Mas- 
ter Leonard,  riding  him  about  on  his  shoulder. 

Pina  would  request  him  to  give  that  piece  of  informa- 
tion to  the  "  horse-marines,"  who  might  be  credulous 
enough  to  believe  his  story.  As  for  herself,  she  rejected 
it  totally  and  held  fast  by  her  own  rights  as  sole  nurse  by 
appointment  of  her  mistress. 

Through  all  these  quarrels  one  fact  was  evident — the 
devotion  of  the  brother  and  sister  to  the  young  child  and 
his  mother,  of  whom  it  might  almost  be  said  that  their 
servants  were  ready  to  lay  down  their  lives  in  their  ser- 
vice. 

Drusilla  had  not  given  up  her  favorite  project  of  pur- 
chasing Cedarwood.  She  had  written  and  instructed  her 
attorneys  to  make  overtures  to  the  present  proprietors  of 
the  place,  for  that  purchase.  She  told  them  that  she  knew 
of  course  the  people  who  had  so  recently  purchased  the 
property  would  want  a  very  handsome  bonus  before  they 
would  consent  to  part  with  it  again  so  soon ;  and  that  she 
was  prepared  to  satisfy  their  demands,  as  she  preferred 
to  pay  an  exorbitant  price  for  the  place  rather  than  miss 
its  possession. 

Her  attorneys,  who  were  long-headed  men  of  business, 
in  no  way  given  to  sentiment  or  extravagance,  wrote  in 
reply  that  they  hoped  with  a  little  patience  and  good 
management  to  buy  the  estate  at  something  like  a  fair 
valuation. 

So  Drusilla  agreed  to  wait. 

Meanwhile  General  Lyon  had  not  forgotten  that  he  had 
promised  to  purchase  Cedarwood,  and  bestow  it  upon  Dru- 
silla as  a  New  Year's  present.  And  he  also  set  about  nego- 
tiating for  his  purpose. 

This  reached  the  ears  of  Drusilla's  lawyers,  who  imme- 
diately wrote  to  ask  her  if  she  was  aware  that  her  uncle, 
also,  was  after  the  place. 


HALCYON  DAYS.  57 

Drusilla  was  not  aware  of  the  fact ;  but  now  that  she 
heard  of  it,  she  of  course  understood  that  the  General 
could  only  be  seeking  it  for  her  sake. 

So  she  went  to  the  old  gentleman  and  assured  him  that 
as  much  as  she  loved  him,  she  could  not  possibly  receive 
so  magnificent  a  present  from  his  hands,  but  very  much 
desired  to  purchase  the  estate  with  her  own  funds. 

General  Lyon  laughed,  and  assured  her  that  his  only 
motive  in  trying  to  buy  Cedarwood  was  to  keep  his  word 
to  her ;  but  that,  if  she  released  him  from  it,  he  was  ready 
to  give  up  the  project.  For  he  was  well  aware,  he  said, 
that  to  bestow  property  on  a  lady  who  owned  warehouses 
piled  with  merchandise  in  Baltimore  and  San  Francisco, 
and  merchant  ships  at  sea  trading  to  all  parts  of  the  world, 
besides  bank  stock  and  railway  shares  in  almost  every 
State,  and  gold  mines  in  California,  to  bestow  a  little  bit 
of  property  on  such  a  billionaire  would  simply  be  to  send 
coals  to  Newcastle." 

So  the  General  wrote  and  stopped  the  proceedings  of 
his  lawyers. 

And  Drusilla  wrote  and  told  hers  to  go  ahead  as  fast  as 
they  saw  fit. 

But  it  was  April  before  any  measure  of  importance  was 
taken.  Then  Messrs.  Heneage  &  Kent,  who  had  been  as 
active  and  as  artful  as  detectives  in  the  business,  wrote  to 
inform  their  client  that  they  had  discovered  that  the  pres- 
ent proprietor  of  Cedarwood,  who  was  a  person  of  very 
restless  disposition  and  unsettled  habits,  had  become  dis- 
satisfied with  the  place  and  was  anxious  to  dispose  of  it, 
and  would  do  so  immediately  if  he  could  sell  it  for  as 
much  as  he  gave  for  it.  Now,  as  Alexander  Lyon  had 
sold  the  estate  at  some  sacrifice  during  his  fit  of  fury,  it 
was  therefore  supposed  to  be  a  good  bargain.  The  law- 
yers wrote  to  ask  further  instructions  from  their  client. 

Drusilla  by  return  mail  directed  them  to  buy  Cedar- 
wood  immediately,  as  her  great  desire  was  to  possess  it  as 
soon  as  possible,  on  any  terms.  She  also  requested  them 
to  buy  as  much  of  the  wooded  land  around  Cedarwood  as 
they  could  get  at  a  reasonable,  or  even  at  a  slightly  unrea- 
sonable price,  as  she  intended  to  improve  the  place  as 
much  as  it  would  admit  of,  and  wished,  among  other 
things,  to  have  a  little  home  park. 


58  THE  BRIDE'S  FA,TE. 

It  was  well  for  this  young  Fortunate,  that  her  attorneys 
had  much  more  prudence  than  herself.  They  were  not 
disposed  to  pay  fancy  prices  for  fancy  places,  even  when 
they  were  spending  their  client's  money  instead  of  their 
own,  and  getting  a  good  percentage  on  it.  So  they  man- 
aged matters  so  well  that,  by  the  first  of  May,  the  whole 
business  was  successfully  completed. 

Cedarwood,  with  its  original  twenty-five  acres  of  par- 
tially cleared  land,  was  purchased  for  twenty  thousand 
dollars,  and  one  hundred  acres  of  wild  forest  land  lying 
all  around  it  was  purchased  for  thirty  thousand — the 
whole  property  costing  fifty  thousand. 

"  A  very  excellent  in  vestment,"  wrote  Heneage  &  Kent, 
"  even  as  a  mere  country  seat ;  but  the  land  so  near  the 
city  is  rapidly  rising  in  value  ;  and  when  you  may  wish 
to  do  so  in  future  years,  you  may  divide  it  into  half  a  hun- 
dred villa  sites,  and  sell  each  part  for  as  much  money  as 
you  now  pay  for  the  whole." 

But  Drusilla  was  not  thinking  of  land  speculations,  so 
she  ran  to  her  friends  and,  after  telling  them  of  the  com- 
pletion of  the  purchase  of  Cedarwood,  she  exclaimed  : 

"  And  now  we  shall  have  such  a  beautiful  home  near 
the  city  to  receive  us  all  when  we  go  to  Washington  to 
spend  the  winter.  It  will  be  so  much  better  than  a  hotel 
or  boarding-house  in  the  city.  It  is  only  half  an  hour's 
drive  from  the  Capitol.  We  can  live  there  so  comfortable, 
and  as  quiet  as  we  please  when  we  wish  to  be  so,  and 
enter  into  all  the  amusements  of  the  city  we  like  when  we 
wish  to  do  so.  It  will  only  be  to  start  half  an  hour  earlier 
when  we  go  to  a  party  or  a  play,  half  an  hour  earlier  from 
Cedarwood  than  we  should  from  a  hotel  in  the  city,  I 
mean.  And  then  when  we  leave  a  brilliant  ball-room  or 
opera-house,  it  will  be  so  pleasant  to  come  to  a  sweet, 
quiet  home  in  the  woods,  instead  of  a  noisy,  unwholesome 
hotel — don't  you  think  so,  dear  uncle  ?  "  she  said,  appeal- 
ing to  the  General. 

"  Yes,  my  darling,  I  do,"  answered  the  old  gentleman. 

"  And  shall  you  like  the  plan  ?  " 

"  Very  much,  my  dear  child.  I  never  could  sleep  well 
at  any  of  the  hotels  in  Washington  or  in  any  other  city, 
for  that  matter.  The  noise  of  the  carriages  in  the  streets 
always  kept  me  awake  nearly  all  night." 


THE  END  OF  PROBATION.  59 

"  And  you,  Anna — shall  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  shall.  I  detest  hotels.  The  clean  face 
towels  always  smell  sour  or  fetid,  for  one  thing.  And 
boarding  houses  and  furnished  lodgings  are  almost  as 
bad." 

"  I  am  delighted  !  So  in  future  I  and  my  baby  shall  be 
your  guests  at  Old  Lyon  Hall  or  at  Hammond  House  dur- 
ing the  summer,  and  you  all  shall  be  my  guests  at  Cedar- 
wood  all  the  winter.  And  I  shall  write  to  "  mammy," 
and  offer  her  and  her  husband  the  situations  of  house- 
keeper and  head  gardener  there,  at  liberal  wages.  And 
they  would  keep  the  house  and  grounds  always  in  good 
order,  and  ready  to  receive  us.  Will  not  that  be  pleasant, 
Dick?" 

"  Pleasant !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Hammond  enthusiastic- 
ally ;  « it  will  be  perfectly  delightful." 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  END  OF  PROBATION. 

From  that  day  forth,  in  peace  and  joyous  bliss, 
They  lived  together  long,  without  debate  ; 

No  private  jars,  nor  spite  of  enemies, 
Could  shake  the  safe  assurance  of  their  state. — SPENSER. 

BESIDES  the  natural  geniality  and  sociability  of  his  dis- 
position, which  always  moved  General  Lyon  to  bring  his 
friends  and  relations  about  him,  there  were  other  and  even 
stronger  motives  that  urged  him  to  invite  Richard  Ham- 
mond to  remain  at  Old  Lyon  Hall.  The  old  gentleman 
wanted  to  save  "  the  unlucky  dog  from  his  friends,"  and 
also  he  wanted  to  study  him. 

And  as  weeks  and  months  of  close  companionship  in 
the  seclusion  of  the  country  house  passed  away,  he  did 
study  him.  And  apparently  the  study  was  satisfactory. 

All  poor  Dick's  impulses  were  altogether  good.  Indeed, 
it  was  through  the  very  goodness  of  his  nature  that  he 
so  often  came  to  grief. 

Dick  could  not  bear  to  say  No ;  and  not  only  ever  to 
his  friends,  but  not  even  to  his  enemies,  for  his  salvation, 


60  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Dick  could  not  endure  to  inflict  pain,  not  only  ever  upon 
good  people  but  not  even  upon  sinners.  And  these 
amiable  traits  in  his  character  were  used  by  evil-disposed 
people  to  his  injury. 

There  was  indeed  so  much  of  the  woman  in  Dick's 
gentle  and  lively  nature  that  very  few  women  could  have 
loved  him  as  Anna  did.  But  then  there  was  enough  of 
the  man  in  Anna's  nature  to  produce  an  equilibrium  of 
the  sexes  in  their  union. 

General  Lyon  noticed  all  this,  and  he  noticed  something 
else — namely,  that  though  Dick  and  Anna  certainly  loved 
each  other  devotedly,  they  bore  their  probation  with  ex- 
emplary patience. 

This  touched  the  heart  of  the  veteran,  but  still  he  would 
not  shorten  the  time. 

Moreover,  he  felt  the  infirmities  of  age  creeping  upon 
him,  he  knew  that  at  his  years  life  was  extremely  precari- 
ous, and  he  certainly  wanted  to  see  another  generation  of 
Lyons  in  lineal  descent  from  himself  before  he  should  go 
home  and  be  no  more  on  earth. 

Yet  for  all  this  he  would  not  hasten  the  marriage  of 
Dick  and  Anna. 

Drusilla,  with  her  quick  perceptions  and  warm  sympa- 
thies, read  the  hearts  of  all  around,  and  wished  to  make 
them  happy. 

Like  an  artful  little  angel  as  she  was,  she  chose  her  op- 
portunity well. 

It  was  a  lovely  day  in  the  latter  part  of  April,  and  Gen- 
eral Lyon  and  herself  were  sitting  alone  together  in  a 
front  parlor  where  windows  opened  upon  a  conservatory 
in  full  bloom. 

Dick  and  Anna  were  gone  on  a  visit  of  Inspection  of 
the  works  at  Hammond  House. 

The  General  had  little  Leonard  in  his  arms. 

Drusilla  was  sewing  beside  them. 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  you  do  not  know  how  much  this  little 
fellow  adds  to  my  happiness ! "  he  said. 

"  I  am  always  so  glad  and  grateful  to  hear  you  say  that, 
dear  uncle,  and  I  hope  little  Leonard  as  he  grows  in  in- 
telligence will  be  more  and  more  of  a  comfort  to  you,"  she 
replied ;  and  then,  after  a  little  pause,  she  said : 

"  But  if  little  Leonard,  who  is  only  my  son,  gives  you 


THE  END  OF  PROBATION.  61 

so  much  content,  how  much  joy  Anna's  children  will  give 
you ! " 

"  I  don't  know,  my  dear :  and,  besides,  I  may  not  live 
to  see  them." 

"  Dear  uncle,  you  will  live  many  years  yet." 

"  I  cannot  hope  to  do  that,  my  dear.  I  am  past  seventy. 
I  have  already  lived  out  the  threescore  and  ten  years 
allotted  as  the  natural  term  of  a  man's  life." 

"  But,  dear  uncle,  I  think  all  nature  teaches  us  that  a 
CEXTURY  is  the  natural  term  of  a  man's  life." 

"  A  pleasant  theory,  my  child.  I  wish  it  were  a  true 
one." 

fc  But  I  think  it  is  a  true  one." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"From  analogy.  All  natural  philosophers  and  his- 
torians who  have  made  the  nature  and  habits  of  the 
animal  creation  their  study  have  agreed  upon  this  fact ; 
that  all  healthy  animals,  unless  their  lives  are  terminated 
by  violence,  live  five  times  as  long  as  it  takes  them  to 
grow  up.  Xow  it  takes  the  human  animal  twenty  years 
at  least  to  grow  to  maturity ;  therefore  the  human  animal 
really  should  live  five  times  twenty  years,  which  makes  a 
round  hundred  or  a  CENTURY  ;  and  I  firmly  believe  it  is 
intended  for  him  to  live  that  long,  if  he  only  acted  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  laws  of  life  and  health.  And,  dear 
uncle,  you  seem  always  to  have  acted  so,  and  therefore  I 
think  you  may  safely  calculate  upon  living  out  your  cen- 
tury and  then  dying  the  gentle  death  of  mere  old  age." 

"There  is  a  certain  reasonableness  in  your  theory,  my 
little  philosopher." 

"  And  there  is  a  roundness  and  completeness  in  this 
full  century  of  life  which  is  so  satisfactory,"  said  Drusilla, 
heartily. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  especially  to  those  who  love  this  planet 
Earth,  with  all  her  failings,  as  I  confess  I  do,"  smiled  the 
old  gentleman.  "  And  besides,  I  would  like  to  see  Anna 
and  Dick  happily  married,  with  a  thriving  family  of  boys 
and  girls  about  their  knees." 

"  Then,  dear  uncle,  why  not  let  them  marry  at  once  ?  " 
pleaded  Drusilla. 

" «  Marry  at  once ! '  Drusilla,  you  astound  me,  child !  " 
exclaimed  the  old  gentleman,  in  unaffected  astonishment. 


62  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Yes,  marry  at  once,  dear  uncle,  and  then,  if  you  live 
to  be  as  old  as  Methusaleh,  you  will  still  have  only  the 
longer  time  to  witness  their  happiness,"  persisted  Drusilla, 
who,  now  that  she  had  u  broken  the  ice,"  was  determined 
to  go  through. 

"  But,  my  dear,  I  put  Richard  Hammond  upon  a  proba- 
tion of  twelve  months,  and  the  time  has  not  expired  yet." 

"  It  is  very  nearly  half  gone,  though.  Five  months  of 
the  allotted  term  has  passed  away.  There  are  seven 
months  of  penance  remaining.  Dear  uncle,  be  kind  to 
them  and  commute  that  to  one  month.  Let  them  marry 
in  May." 

«  Have  they  commissioned  you  to  plead  their  cause,  my 
dear  ?  "  gravely  inquired  General  Lyon. 

«  Oh  no,  sir,  they  have  not.  And  perhaps  also  you  may 
think  me  very  presumptuous  and  impertinent  to  meddle 
in  the  matter.  If  you  do,  I  will  beg  your  pardon  and  be 
silent." 

**  Nonsense,  my  dear  child  !  I  think  nothing  of  the  sort. 
Speak  all  your  thoughts  freely  to  me.  They  are  good  and 
true  thoughts,  I  know,  though  they  may  not  be  very 
worldly  wise.  Come  now,  why  should  I  shorten  the  pro- 
bation of  Dick  ?  " 

"  Oh,  because  he  has  behaved  so  well.  Indeed,  dear 
uncle,  if  you  really  mean  that  Dick  should  marry  Anna, 
I  think  that  you  had  just  as  well  let  him  marry  her  now 
as  half  a  year  hence.  I  believe  Dick  is  as  good  now  as  he 
will  ever  be,  or  as  any  young  man  can  be.  "Why  do  you  in- 
sist on  a  probation  ?  If  Dick  were  playing  a  part  in  this 
good  behavior,  he  could  play  it  six  months  longer  as  well 
as  he  has  played  it  six  months  past,  for  so  great  a  stake  as 
Anna's  hand.  But  he  is  not  playing  a  part.  You  know 
as  well  as  I  do  that  Dick  is  as  frank,  sincere  and  open- 
hearted  as  his  best  friend  or  worst  enemy  could  desire  him 
to  be.  He  is  not  playing  a  part.  His  present  steadiness 
is  but  an  earnest  of  what  his  whole  future  life  will  be, 
with  Anna  by  his  side.  Dear  uncle,  I  really  do  think 
that  all  Dick's  irregularities  grew  out  of  his  banishment 
from  Anna's  society.  He  sought  gay  companions — or 
rather  no  ;  we  are  sure  that  he  never  sought  them ;  but  he 
allowed  himself  to  fall  into  their  company  to  find  oblivion 
for  his  regrets.  "With  the  mere  promise  of  Anna's  hand, 


THE  END  OF  PROBATION.  64 

you  see  he  has  dropped  his  disreputable  friends  altogether. 
With  Anna  for  his  wife,  he  will  never  be  in  danger  of 
taking  them  up  again." 

«  There  is  much  reason  in  what  you  say,  my  dear," 
admitted  General  Lyon. 

"  And,  besides,"  said  Brasilia,  dropping  reason  and  re- 
sorting to  sentiment,  "  it  is  such  a  pity  not  to  make  them 
happy  when  you  have  the  power  to  do  it." 

"  I  will  think  of  what  you  have  advanced,  my  dear  Dru- 
silla,"  said  the  veteran,  gravely.  "  But  Lord  bless  my 
soul  alive  !  "  he  added,  elevating  his  eyebrows,  "  now  I  do 
think  of  it,  the  young  man  himself  has  not  petitioned  for 
a  curtailment  of  his  probation  !  " 

"  Oh,  uncle,  has  he  not  f  Not,  not  in  set  terms,  perhaps, 
because  you  absolutely  forbade  him  to  resume  the  subject 
until  the  specified  year  should  have  terminated ;  and  of 
course  he  felt,  and  still  feels,  bound  to  obey  you.  But  has 
not  his  whole  conduct  for  the  last  five  months  been  a  plea 
for  the  commutation  of  his  sentence  ?  Has  not  every  word, 
look  and  act  of  his  life  here  been  a  declaration  of  devotion 
to  Anna,  a  prayer  for  mercy  from  you,  and  a  promise  of 
fidelity  to  both  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  deny  that." 

"  Then,  dear  uncle,  let  them  marry  at  once.  Oh,  forgive 
my  plain  speech  !  for  you  know  you  told  me  to  speak  my 
thoughts  freely." 

"  Certainly." 

"  Then  let  them  marry  at  once." 

"  Is  there  no  other  reason  you  would  like  to  urge  why 
they  should  be  made  happy,  as  you  express  it,  just  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear  sir ;  if  you  make  them  wait  until  the 
time  of  probation  is  out,  it  will  bring  the  wedding  to  the 
middle  of  November — sad  November,  which  is  always 
gloomy  enough  in  itself  and  is  now  doubly  gloomy  to  us 
from  its  associations.  Three  times  Anna's  marriage  has 
oeen  appointed  to  take  place  in  November,  and  three 
times  it  has  been  defeated — twice  by  death,  and  once — 
but  we  will  say  no  more  of  that.  Let  us  change  the 
month  and  even  the  season,  dear  sir.  Let  the  marriage 
come  off  hi  May — this  next  May.  it  is  now  beautiful 
spring — the  best  season  in  the  year  for  a  wedding  and  a 
fredding  tour.  Let  them  marry  and  go ;  and  you  and  I 


64  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

and  little  Leonard  will  stay  here  and  have  a  good  time 
this  summer.  In  autumn  they  will  return  and  join  us 
again.  And  early  in  the  winter  we  will  all  go  up  to 
Washington  and  live  at  Cedarwood  during  the  season. 
Dear  uncle,  I  do  think  you  had  better  let  them  get  their 
wedding  tour  over  this  summer.  You  will  miss  Anna 
very  much  less  in  summer  than  in  winter." 

"  That  is  very  true,"  said  the  General,  reflectively. 

"  And  you  will  let  them  marry  in  May  ?  "  eagerly  in- 
quired Drusilla 

"  Ah !  I  don't  know.  I  cannot  move  in  the  matter 
unless  the  yonng  gentleman  does.  I  cannot  fling  my 
granddaughter  at  Mr.  Dick  Hammond's  head  !  " 

"  Oh,  uncle !  how  can  you  say  such  things  ?  You 
know  poor  Dick  is  tongue-tied  on  that  subject  for  the 
present,  by  your  probation,  as  well  as  by  his  sense  of 
honor.  He  cannot  speak  of  this  without  your  leave.  But 
only  give  him  leave  by  a  glance,  a  nod,  a  hint,  and  he  will 
be  on  his  knees  to  you  to  grant  his  suit  and  shorten  his 
probation,"  said  Drusilla. 

"Hem!  Suppose  you  give  the  glance,  nod,  or  hint, 
that  may  be  required  for  the  encouragement  of  this  de- 
spairing lover  ?  "  proposed  the  General,  archly. 

"  That  I  will,  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,"  replied  Dru- 
silla, warmly. 

The  next  day  at  noon,  while  Drusilla  was  walking  be- 
side her  baby's  carriage  out  on  the  lawn,  Dick,  with  his 
fishing  rod  over  his  back,  sauntered  up  to  her. 

Drusilla  dropped  behind  so  as  to  let  the  carriage  and 
the  nurse  get  far  enough  ahead  to  be  out  of  hearing,  and 
then  she  said : 

"  Dick,  I  think  if  you  will  ask  our  uncle  to  release  you 
from  your  promise  of  silence  on  a  certain  subject,  that  he 
will  do  so." 

"  Drusilla,  do  you  really  think  he  will  ?  If  I  thought 
so,  if  I  was  sure  he  would  not  banish  me  at  once  from 
Anna's  side,  I  would  ask  him  this  moment ! "  exclaimed 
Dick,  his  eyes  dancing  with  eagerness. 

"  He  will  not  banish  you,  Why  should  he  ?  You  will 
break  no  promise  to  him ;  you  will  only  ask  him  if  he  sees 
fit  to  release  you  from  your  promise  of  silence  on  a  certain 
subject.  I  think  he  will  give  you  leave  to  speak  on  that 


THE  END  OF  PROBATION.  6& 

subject.  And,  furthermore,  when  you  do  speak,  I  think 
he  will  listen  to  you  favorably." 

"  Oh,  Brasilia  !  do  you  ?  Do  you  think  so,  indeed  ?  If 
I  thought  so,  I  should  be  the  luckiest  dog  and  the  hap- 
piest man  in  existence." 

"  Go  try  for  yourself  at  once,  Dick.  He  is  in  his  study. 
He  has  just  got  through  his  morning  papers,  and  is  enjoy- 
ing his  pipe.  The  opportunity  is  highly  auspicious.  Go 
at  once,  Dick.  You  will  never  find  him  in  a  more  favor- 
able mood." 

"  I'm  off  this  instant.  Heaven  bless  you,  Drusilla,  and 
make  you  as  happy  as  I  hope  to  be,"  exclaimed  Richard 
Hammond,  dropping  his  fishing  tackle,  and  dashing  away 
to  put  his  destiny  to  the  test. 

Drusilla  hastened  after  her  baby's  carriage,  overtook  it, 
and  continued  to  walk  beside  it,  and  guard  it  for  more 
than  an  hour  longer. 

She  had  just  turned  with  it  towards  the  house  when 
she  was  met  by  Dick,  who  was  hastening  to  greet  her. 

"  Oh,  Drusa,  Drusa,  dear  Drusa,  it  is  all  right  now. 
And  all  through  you !  And  I  came  to'  tell  you  so,  and  to 
thank  you,  even  before  I  go  to  tell  Anna ! "  exclaimed 
Dick,  with  his  face  all  beaming  with  happiness. 

And  he  seized  and  kissed  Drusilla's  hand,  and  then 
darted  off  again,  in  search  of  Anna. 

And  thus  through  Drusilla's  intervention,  was  Richard 
Hammond's  probation  commuted,  and  the  marriage  of  the 
lovers  appointed  to  be  celebrated  about  the  middle  of  May. 

Meanwhile  Drusilla  had  written  to  "  mammy,"  offering 
to  her  the  situation  of  housekeeper,  and  to  her  husband 
that  of  head  gardener  at  Cedarwood.  She  had  directed 
her  letter  to  the  care  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Hopper,  at 
Alexandria,  feeling  sure  that  it  would  by  this  means 
safely  reach  the  hands  of  the  nurse. 

In  due  time  Drusilla  received  an  answer,  badly  written 
and  worse  spelt,  yet  sufficiently  expressive  of  "  mammy's,'* 
sentiments  on  the  subject. 

She  thanked  Mrs.  Lyon  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart, 
and  would  gladly  take  the  place  and  try  to  do  her  duty 
by  the  mistress.  And  likewise  her  old  man.  She  never 
expected  to  have  such  a  piece  of  good  fortune  come  to  her 
and  her  old  man  in  the  old  ages  of  their  lives.  Which  it 
5 


66  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

had  just  come  in  good  time  too,  seeing  as  her  last  darter 
was  agoing  to  marry  and  leave  her  and  her  old  man  alone. 
And  besides,  she  herself  was  aged  before  her  time,  all 
along  of  spending  all  the  days  of  her  life  in  close,  sick 
rooms.  And  she  was  mortially  glad  to  leave  the  pro- 
fession of  sick  nursin'  to  younger  and  stronger  wimmin. 
Which  she  was  fairly  pining  for  the  country,  where  her 
childhood  and  youth  had  been  passed.  She  had  never 
been  able  to  get  reconciled  to  the  town,  although  she  had 
lived  into  it  for  thirty-five  years,  and  she  loved  to  feed 
chickens  and  take  care  of  cows,  and  make  butter  and 
cheese.  And  as  for  her  old  man,  it  was  the  delight  of  his 
life  to  hoe  and  rake,  and  plant  and  sow,  and  weed  and 
trim  gardens  and  vineyards,  and  sich  like.  And  she  was 
sure  they  would  both  be  happier  than  they  had  ever 
been  in  all  their  lives  before.  And  she  prayed  Heaven  to 
bless  the  young  madam  who  had  taken  such  kind  thoughts 
of  them  in  their  age,  to  insure  them  so  much  prosperity 
and  pleasure. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A    MAY-DAY    MARRIAGE. 

Be  not  amazed  at  life.     '  Tis  still 

The  mode  of  God  with  His  elect : 
Their  hopes  exactly  to  fulfil, 

In  times  and  ways  they  least  expect. 

Who  marry  as  they  choose,  and  choose 
Not  as  they  ought,  they  mock  the  priest, 

And  leaving  out  obedience,  lose 
The  finest  flavor  of  the  feast.— ALFORD. 

THE  wedding-day  of  Dick  and  Anna  was  fixed  for  the 
fifteenth  of  May. 

Then  came  consultations  about  the  details  of  the  festival. 

Should  it  be  a  festival  ? 

Anna  thought  not.  Her  marriage  had  been  so  often 
appointed  and  so  often  arrested  that  she  said  it  would  be 
best  taste  now  to  get  it  over  as  quietly  as  possible.  She 
and  her  betrothed,  attended  only  by  General  Lyon  and 


A  MAY-DAY  MARRIAGE.  67 

Drusilla,  would  go  to  church  and  be  married  in  their 
traveling-dresses,  and  start  immediately  on  the  wedding 
tour.  Such  was  Anna's  plan. 

But  General  Lyon  would  not  hear  of  such  a  thing. 
What !  marry  off  his  granddaughter  and  heiress  to  his 
nephew  in  such  a  semi-clandestine  manner,  as  if  he  were 
half -ashamed  of  the  proceeding  ?  What,  disappoint  all  the 
young  people  in  the  neighborhood,  who  had  every  right 
to  expect  a  festival  on  the  marriage  of  Miss  Lyon,  of  Old 
Lyon  Hall  ?  Not  while  he  was  head  of  the  family !  Anna 
should  be  married  at  home.  And  there  should  be  such  a 
celebration  of  the  nuptials  as  the  lads  and  lasses  around 
the  hall  should  remember  to  the  latest  day  of  their  lives. 

Anna  urged  that  in  the  middle  of  May  the  weather 
would  be  too  warm  for  a  ball. 

General  Lyon  agreed  that  it  would ;  but  added  that  the 
weather  would  be  delightful  for  a  festival  in  the  open  air 
on  the  beautiful  grounds  of  the  manor;  it  would  be 
neither  too  warm  nor  too  cold,  but  exactly  right  for  danc- 
ing on  the  lawn.  The  marriage  ceremony  he  said  should 
be  performed  in  the  great  drawing-room,  the  wedding 
breakfast  should  be  laid  in  the  long  dining-room ;  but 
the  music  and  dancing  should  be  enjoyed  in  the  open  air. 

Anna  laughingly  appealed  to  Dick  and  to  Drusilla  to 
take  her  part  against  this  decision  of  the  General. 

But  Drusilla  and  Dick  declined  to  interfere  and  re- 
mained conscientiously  neutral. 

So  the  will  of  the  General  carried  the  day. 

This  obstinacy  of  the  old  gentleman  made  it  necessary 
that  a  great  deal  of  business  should  be  done,  and  done  at 
once,  as  the  time  was  so  short  to  the  wedding-day.  Wed- 
ding cards  must  be  printed  and  circulated.  A  new  trous- 
seau must  be  prepared.  A  sumptuous  breakfast  must  be 
devised.  Certain  deeds  must  be  executed. 

In  furtherance  of  these  works,  Dick  first  went  up  to 
Richmond  to  deal  with  lawyers  and  engravers. 

And  soon  after  his  departure  General  Lyon  and  Anna 
went  to  Washington  to  negotiate  with  milliners  and  pastry 
cooks. 

And  Drusilla  and  her  attendants  remained  in  charge  of 
Old  Lyon  Hall.  She  had  been  affectionately  invited  to 
accompany  Anna  and  the  General,  but,  though  her  baby 


68  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

was  now  nearly  six  months  old,  she  declined  either  to  leave 
•him  at  home  or  to  take  him  on  so  long  and  rough  a  journey. 
She  thought  that  her  boy  and  herself  were  both  better  in 
the  country.  The  General  agreed  with  her,  and  so  she 
•was  left  in  charge  of  the  premises. 

But  though  she  sadly  missed  her  friendly  Anna,  and 
fatherly  old  General,  and  gay  Dick,  yet  her  life  when  left 
at  Old  Lyon  Hall  was  very  different  from  what  it  had 
been  when  she  was  alone  at  Cedarwood. 

Here  in  the  old  hall  she  was  no  longer  lonesome  and 
•dreary.  She  had  a  plenty  of  company  and  of  interesting 
employment.  She  had  her  darling  boy  and  her  attentive 
•servants ;  and  she  had  visitors  from  the  neighborhood 
-almost  every  day ;  for  young  Mrs.  Alexander  Lyon  was 
.growing  in  favor  with  the  whole  neighborhood. 

Here  she  was  not  obliged  to  live  a  secret  life.  She  would 
drive  out  in  her  carriage,  with  her  baby  and  nurse,  when- 
ever she  pleased.  She  could  ride  out  on  horseback  at- 
tended by  her  young  groom  Leo,  whenever  she  liked.  She 
could  return  the  calls  of  her  country  neighbors ;  she  could 
accept  their  invitations  to  dinner  or  to  tea,  and  she  could 
receive  and  entertain  them  at  home. 

Here  she  enjoyed  the  largest  liberty.  General  Lyon  and 
Anna  had  both  assured  her  that  she  would  only  make 
them  happier  by  behaving  in  all  respects  as  a  daughter 
of  the  house,  and  using  it  as  if  it  were  her  own.  And 
Drusilla,  convinced  of  their  perfect  sincerity,  took  them 
at  their  word.  « 

Her  sweet  heart  and  social  spirit  took  pleasure  in  this 
frequent  intercourse  with  the  country  ladies  and  their 
little  children.  She  liked  to  have  a  whole  family,  mother, 
children  and  nurses,  to  spend  a  long  day  with  her  at 
home  ;  and  almost  as  well  she  liked  to  take  her  boy  and 
nurse  and  go  and  pass  a  whole  day  at  the  country  house 
of  some  friend. 

It  was  gratifying  to  her  also,  when  her  nearest  neigh- 
bors, the  Seymours,  came  over  and  spent  an  evening  with 
her.  There  were  but  three  persons  in  this  family — old 
Colonel  and  Mrs.  Seymour,  and  their  youngest  daughter 
Annie,  or  Nanny,  as  they  called  her. 

Old  Colonel  Seymour  was  a  passionate  lover  of  music, 
and  it  was  the  one  grievance  of  his  life  that  his  daughter 


A  MAY-DAY  MARRIAGE.  69* 

Nanny  had  no  voice,  and  no  ear,  and  never  could  learn  to 
sing  or  play  on  the  piano.  He  could  never  understand  it,_ 
he  said,  how  a  girl  born  with  the  usual  allowance  of. 
senses,  with  a  quick  pair  of  ears,  and  a  nimble  tongue, 
and  who  could  hear  as  fast  and  talk  much  faster  than 
anybody  he  ever  saw,  should  pretend  that  she  did  not 
know  one  tune  from  another !  She  that  was  neither  deaf, 
nor  dumb,  nor  an  idiot !  It  was  an  incomprehensible  fact, 
but  it  was  no  less  a  great  personal  injury  to  himself. 

But  his  one  great  delight  was  to  come  over  to  Old  Lyon 
Hall  in  the  evening,  and  hear  Drusilla  sing  and  play. 
Now,  we  know  that  her  greatest  gift  was  music.  She 
sang  with  a  passion  and  power  equalled  by  no  one  in- 
private  circles,  and  excelled  by  but  few  in  professional 
life.  Honest  Colonel  Seymour  had  never  in  all  his  earthly 
experience  had  the  privilege  of  hearing  a  great  public- 
singer.  Therefore  the  performances  of  Drusilla  affected,. 
I  might  even  say,  overwhelmed  him  or  transported  him, 
with  equal  wonder  and  delight. 

And  Drusilla  exerted  herself  hour  after  hour,  and  eve- 
ning after  evening,  to  please  him,  and  took  as  much 
pleasure  herself  in  the  intense  appreciation  of  her  one 
single  old  adorer,  as  ever  a  great  prima  donna  did  in  the- 
applause  of  a  whole  world. 

And  the  honest  old  gentleman's  head  was  fairly  turned 
with  admiration  and  gratitude. 

"  To  think,"  he  said,  as  he  walked  home  with  his  wife 
and  daughter,  one  moonlight  night,  after  spending  an 
evening  at  Old  Lyon  Hall,  "  to  think  of  having  such  a 
voice  as  that  in  the  neighborhood !  to  think  of  being  able- 
to  hear  it  several  times  a  week,  for  the  asking !  Oh !  it 
ought,  indeed  it  ought,  to  raise  the  price  of  real  estate  in 
this  locality  !  And  it  would  do  it,  too,  if  people  really 
could  feel  what  good  music  is  !  " 

"  Papa,"  laughed  the  old  wife,  "  you  are  an  old  gander. 
And  if  you  were  not  gray  and  bald,  and  very  good,  I 
should  be  jealous." 

"  Oh,  but  mother,  such  strains !  Oh,  my  Heavens, 
such  divine  strains  !  "  he  exclaimed,  catching  his  breath, 
in  ecstasy. 

"  What  will  you  do  when  your  St.  Cecilia  leaves  the 
neighborhood  ?  "  inquired  his  daughter. 


70  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

«  Leave  the  neighborhood  1  is  she  going  to  do  that  ?  " 
gasped  the  music-maniac. 

«  They  are  all  going  to  Washington,  next  winter,  she 


"Then  we'll — go  too.  I  say,  mother,  one  season  in 
town,  would  not  be  amiss  for  Nanny  ;  and  so  we  can  take 
her  there  next  winter  ;  and  then  I  may  swim  and  soar  in 
celestial  sounds  every  evening ! " 

M  Papa,  now  you  are  too  provoking,  and  I  am  jealous," 
said  Nanny.  "  For  my  part,  I  don't  like  music  any  more 
than  I  do  any  other  sort  of  racket.  And  I  do  think  if 
there  is  one  nuisance  worse  than  another,  it  is  a  singing 
and  playing  lunatic,  filling  the  whole  room  full  of  shrieks 
and  crashes,  just  as  if  a  thousand  housemaids  were 
smashing  a  million  of  dishes,  and  squalling  together  over 
the  catastrophe !  " 

"  Oh,  child,  child,  what  a  misfortune  for  you  to  have 
been  born  deaf,  as  to  your  divine  ears  ! "  answered  the  old 
gentleman  in  tones  of  deep  and  sincere  pity  and  regret. 

"  I'm  sure,  papa,  I  often  wish  I  had  been  born  deaf  as 
to  my  bodily  ears  !  I  mean,  when  your  divinity  is  shriek- 
ing and  thrashing,  and  raising  such  a  hullabaloo  that  I 
can't  hear  myself  speak  !  "  said  Nanny. 

"  Ah  !  '  that  accounts  for  the  milk  in  the  cocoanut !  * 
You  can't  hear  yourself  speak,  and  you  prefer  the  sound 
of  your  own  sweet  voice  to  the  music  of  the  spheres  !  " 

"  If  the  music  of  the  spheres  is  that  sort  of  noise,  I 
certainly  do,  papa." 

"  Thank  Goodness,  here  we  are  at  our  own  gate  !  And 
now  we  will  drop  the  subject  of  music  for  the  rest  of  the 
evening — Kitty,  was  the  missing  turkey-gobbler  found  ?  " 
inquired  Mrs.  Seymour  of  the  girl  who  came  to  open  the 
door. 

«  Yes'm." 

"  And  did  the  maids  finish  their  task  of  carding  ?  " 

«  Yes'm." 

M  And  did  you  keep  the  fire  up  in  my  room  ?  " 

"Yes'm."  * 

"  That  is  right.  The  evenings  are  real  chilly  and  damp 
for  the  time  of  year.  Come  in." 

And  the  careful  wife  and  mother  led  the  way  into  the 
house. 


A  MAY-DAY  MARRIAGE.  71 

Richard  Hammond  was  the  first  of  the  absentees  to  re- 
turn to  Old  Lyon  Hall.  He  came  one  afternoon,  bringing 
with  him  a  large  packet  of  handsomely  engraved  wedding 
cards  and  a  bundle  of  documents,  all  of  which  he  placed 
in  Brasilia's  charge  to  be  delivered  to  General  Lyon  on 
the  General's  arrival.  Then  he  took  leave  of  Brasilia, 
and  went  over  to  Hammond  House  to  wait  there  until 
the  return  of  his  uncle  and  his  betrothed. 

Two  days  afterwards,  General  Lyon  and  Anna  came 
home. 

Anna  was  attended  by  a  pair  of  dressmakers,  and  en- 
riched with  no  end  of  finery. 

General  Lyon  was  followed  by  a  French  cook  and  his 
apprentices. 

Richard  Hammond  came  over  to  meet  them,  and  con- 
suit  over  the  latest  improvements  of  the  bridal  programme 

And  now  the  business  of  preparation  was  accelerated. 

First,  the  wedding  cards  were  sent  out  far  and  near. 
And  the  neighborhood,  which  was  not  prepared  for  the 
surprise,  was  electrified. 

Next  the  dressmakers,  with  every  skilful  needle- woman 
among  the  housemaids  to  help  them,  were  set  to  work  on 
the  trousseau.  Of  the  many  dresses  that  had  been  made 
up  for  Anna's  marriage,  the  last  November,  most  had 
never  been  worn  and  were  now  in  their  newest  gloss ;  but 
they  were  not  trimmed  in  the  newest  fashion,  nor  were 
they  all  suitable  for  summer  wear ;  so  those  first  dresses, 
had  to  be  altered  and  newly  trimmed,  and  many  new 
dresses  suitable  for  the  season  had  to  be  made  up.  This, 
kept  all  the  feminine  hands  hi  the  house  very  busy  for  a 
week. 

Brasilia's  skill,  and  taste,  and  willingness  to  help  made 
her  an  invaluable  assistant. 

Only  a  few  days  before  the  one  set  for  the  wedding  waa 
the  new  trousseau  finished  and  packed  up,  and  the  new 
wedding  dress  and  traveling  dress  completed  and  laid 
out. 

And  now  carpenters  and  upholsterers  were  brought 
down  from  town,  and  the  house  and  grounds  were  fitted 
up  and  decorated  for  the  happy  occasion. 

The  French  cook  and  his  assistants  had  the  kitchen* 
the  pantry,  the  cellar,  the  plate-closet,  and  the  long  dining. 


72  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

room,  to  themselves,  and  were  up  to  their  linen  caps  in 
business. 

"  Well,  it  is  a  notable  blessing  that  one  cannot  be 
bothered  with  this  sort  of  thing  very  often,  as  one  is  not 
likely  to  be  married  more  than  half  a  dozen  times  in  one's 
life,"  said  Anna,  who  was,  or  affected  to  be,  very  much 
bored  by  all  this  bustle. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  to  Heaven,  Anna,  we  may  neither  of  us 
ever  be  married  but  once !  I  trust  in  the  Lord,  Anna, 
that  we  may  live  together  to  keep  our  golden  wedding- 
day  half  a  century  hence,"  answered  Dick,  very  de- 
voutly. 

For  honest  Dick  was  what  the  Widow  Bedot  would 
have  called  very  much  "  solemnized  "  by  the  impending 
crisis  in  his  fate. 

"Blessed  is  the  bride  that  the  sun  shines  on."  The 
day  of  days  came  at  last— the  auspicious  fifteenth  of  May 
— clear,  bright,  warm,  genial,  with  a  light  breeze  playing 
a  lively  tune,  to  which  all  the  green  leaves  danced  in  glee. 
All  the  flowers  bloomed  to  decorate  the  scene — all  the 
birds  turned  out  to  sing  their  congratulations!  Never 
was  seen  such  a  rosery  on  the  lawn ;  never  was  heard 
such  a  concert  in  the  groves. 

The  brass  band  that  arrived  upon  the  scene  as  early  as 
ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  was  quite  a  superfluity.  Anna 
sent  out  and  ordered  the  men  not  to  play  until  the  birds 
should  be  silent.  So  they  sat  under  the  shade  of  the 
great  oak  trees,  and  had  ale  served  out  to  them,  in  which 
they  drank  the  health  of  the  bridegroom  and  the  bride, 
while  they  watched  the  train  of  carriages  that  were  con- 
stantly coming  up,  bringing  guests  to  the  wedding  feast. 
Such  was  the  scene  on  the  shaded,  flowery  lawn. 

Even  more  festive  was  the  scene  within  the  house. 

All  the  windows  of  the  great  drawing-room  were  thrown 
open,  letting  in  all  the  sunshine  and  the  cool  breeze  of 
this  bright  May  day.  The  walls  were  hung  with  festoons 
of  fragrant  flowers,  and  the  large  table  in  the  centre  was 
loaded  with  the  splendid  wedding  presents  to  the  bride. 

It  would  take  up  too  much  time  to  tell  of  all  these 
presents.  You  will  find  them  fully  described  in  the 
«  Valley  Courier  "  of  that  date.  They  consisted  of  the 
-usual  sort  of  off erings  for  these  occasions — "  sets  "  of  dia- 


A  MAY-DAY  MARRIAGE.  73 

monds,  emeralds,  rubies,  pearls  and  other  gems  ;  "  sets  **" 
of  silver  plate ;  "  sets  "  of  fine  lace,  et  cetera. 

But  we  must  not  omit  to  mention  Drusilla's  munificent 
offering  to  the  bride.  It  was  also  a  "  set,"  a  tea  set  of 
pure  gold,  whose  exquisite  workmanship  was  even  of 
more  value  than  its  costly  material. 

The  appearance  of  the  long  dining-room,  with  the  table 
laid  for  the  wedding  breakfast,  should  have  immortalized 
the  French  cook  if  he  had  not  been  immortalized  before. 
Here,  also,  all  the  windows  were  thrown  open  to  the  light 
and  air.  It  would  never  do,  said  "  Monsieur  le  Chef,"  for 
people  to  be  too  warm  while  eating  and  drinking.  Here, 
however,  were  no  natural  flowers.  Their  powerful  odors, 
said  "  Monsieur,"  affected  too  much  the  delicious  aromas 
of  the  viands.  But  the  walls  were  decorated  with  arti- 
ficial flowers,  with  paintings  and  gildings,  and  with  mir- 
rors that  multiplied  the  splendors  of  the  scene  a  thousand- 
fold, and  opened  imaginary  vistas  into  unending  suites  of 
splendid  saloons  on  every  side. 

The  breakfast  table  reached  nearly  the  whole  length  of 
the  long  dining-room,  and  was  multiplied  by  the  mirrored 
walls  into  innumerable  other  tables  on  every  hand.  It 
was  beautifully  decorated  and  sumptuously  loaded  ;  every 
variety  of  flesh,  fish,  and  fowl  that  was  in  season,  dressed 
in  the  most  delicate  manner  ;  every  sort  of  rare  and  rich 
fruit  and  vegetable ;  wonderful  pastries,  creams,  and  ices  j 
crystallized  sweetmeats,  cordials,  wines,  liquors,  black 
and  green  teas,  and  coffee,  such  as  only  a  Frenchman  can; 
make,  were  among  the  good  things  displayed  to  delight 
the  palates  of  the  guests. 

On  the  second  floor,  the  bed-chambers  and  dressing- 
rooms  wore  a  gay  and  festive  aspect.  There  also  the  win- 
dows were  thrown  open  to  the  light  and  air,  and  shaded 
only  by  the  beautiful  green  trees  and  flowering  vines 
without.  The  beds  and  dressing-tables  were  freshly 
covered  with  snow-white  drapery;  and  on  each  toilet- 
table  were  laid  new  ivory-handled  brushes  and  combs, 
silver  flagons  of  rare  perfumery,  porcelain  pots  of  po- 
made; and  about  each  room  were  every  convenience,, 
comfort  and  luxury  that  a  guest  could  possibly  require, — 
all  provided  by  a  thoughtful  hospitality  that  was  careful 
and  considerate  in  its  minutest  details. 


74  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Early  in  the  day  these  light,  fragrant,  and  delightful 
chambers  were  filled  with  bevies  of  fair  girls,  who  were 
giving  the  last  effective  touches  to  their  own  and  to  each 
other's  gay  festal  dresses,  and  whose  soft  talk  and  silvery 
laughter  made  music  all  around. 

They  had  need  to  hurry,  too ;  for  the  hour  fixed  for 
the  ceremony  was  high  noon,  and  they  must  all  be  ready 
and  in  their  places  to  see  it. 

The  bride's  chamber  was  the  scene  of  the  most  interest- 
ing passages.  There  sat  the  bride,  surrounded  by  her 
bride's-maids,  and  lovingly  attended  by  Drusilla. 

Anna's  dress  was  a  rich  white  honiton  lace  robe  over  a, 
white  silk  skirt,  made  with  a  low  bodice  and  short  sleeves, 
both  edged  with  narrow  lace.  On  her  neck  and  arms  she 
wore  a  necklace  and  bracelets  of  diamonds  ;  on  her  hair 
the  wreath  of  orange  blossoms  ;  over  her  head  and  shoul- 
ders the  deep  bridal  veil  of  lace  to  match  her  robe ;  on 
her  delicate  hands  kid  gloves  as  white  as  snow  and  soft 
as  down.  Her  six  bride's-maids  were  all  dressed  in  white 
tulle,  with  wreaths  of  white  moss-rose  buds  on  their 
hair,  and  veils  of  white  tulle. 

On  this  auspicious  day  Drusilla,  for  the  first  time,  en- 
tirely laid  aside  her  mourning.  She  looked  beautiful  and 
blooming,  in  a  dress  of  rose-colored  moire-antique,  made 
with  a  low  bodice  and  short  sleeves,  trimmed  with  point 
lace.  On  her  neck  and  arms  she  wore  a  necklace  and 
bracelets  of  pearls  ;  on  her  young  matronly  brow  a  wreath 
of  half-open  blush  roses ;  on  her  bosom  a  bouquet  of  the 
same  flowers. 

For  this  day  also  her  little  Leonard  was  dressed  in  gala 
robes,  and  sent  out  upon  the  lawn  in  the  arms  of  his  nurse 
where  he  remained  for  the  present,  gazing  with  eyes 
wide  open  with  astonishment  and  delight  on  the  wander- 
ful  pageantry  around  him. 

The  marriage  hour  struck  at  length. 

The  last  loitering  guests  heard  it,  and  hurried  down- 
stairs to  the  drawing-room  which  was  already  crowded. 

The  bride  and  her  maidens  heard  it,  and  began  to 
smooth  out  the  folds  of  their  dresses,  or  touch  the  edges 
of  their  hair,  and  steal  furtive  glances  at  the  mirrors  to 
see  that  all  was  right  before  leaving  the  chamber  and 
facing  the  hundreds  of  eyes  in  the  drawing-room  below. 


A  MAY-DAY  MARRIAGE.  75 

Punctually  as  the  last  stroke  of  twelve  sounded,  the 
bridegroom  and  his  attendants  came  to  the  door. 

The  procession  was  formed  in  the  usual  manner  and 
passed  down-stairs. 

Two  gentlemen  friends  who  took  upon  themselves  the 
office  of  marshals,  opened  a  way  through  the  crowd  for 
the  bridal  cortege  to  enter. 

On  the  rug  stood  the  Rev.  Dr.  Barber,  in  his  surplice, 
just  as  he  had  stood  some  six  months  before  ;  but  all  the 
rest  was  changed  now.  That  was  a  dark  and  stormy 
November  night.  This  was  a  bright  and  beautiful  May  day. 

The  bridal  party,  with  due  decorum,  took  their  places 
before  the  officiating  minister.  There  was  no  let  or  hin- 
drance now.  The  face  of  the  blooming  bride  was  as 
clearly  seen  as  that  of  the  happy  bridegroom.  Both  par- 
ties responded  clearly  and  distinctly  to  the  questions  of 
the  clergyman.  General  Lyon,  with  smiling  lips,  but 
moist  eyes,  gave  the  bride  away.  And  the  ceremony 
proceeded  and  ended  amid  the  prayers  and  blessings  of 
the  whole  company. 

Kisses  and  congratulations,  tears  and  smiles  followed 
and  took  up  twice  as  much  time  as  the  preceding  solem- 
nity had. 

Then,  at  length  the  company,  headed  by  the  two  mar- 
shals, marched  off  to  the  breakfast  room.  The  ladies 
were  handed  to  the  table,  and  the  gentlemen  waited  in 
duteous  attendance  behind  them 

And  the  feast  began. 

These  ladies  did  not  care  so  much  about  the  fish,  flesh, 
or  fowl,  delicately  dressed  as  these  edibles  might  be.  So 
they  were  left  almost  untouched,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
gentlemen  who  might  come  after.  But  the  beautiful 
pyramids  of  pound  cake,  the  snowy  alps  of  frosted  cream, 
the  glittering  glaciers  of  quivering  jelly,  the  icebergs  of 
frozen  custard,  the  temples  of  crystallized  sweetmeats 
and  groves  of  sugared  fruits  were  quickly  demolished. 

The  bride's  cake  was  cut  up  and  distributed ;  the  piece 
containing  the  prophetic  ring  falling  to  the  lot  of  Nanny 
Seymour. 

At  the  right  moment  the  first  groomsman  arose  and 
made  a  speech,  which  was  heartily  cheered,  and  proposed 
the  health  of— 


76  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"The  bride  and  bridegroom,"  which  was  honored  with 
bumpers  of  "  CLIQUOT." 

Then  the  bridegroom  arose  and  returned  thanks  hi 
another  speech,  which  was  also  cheered ;  and  he  proposed 
the  health  of— 

u  Our  honored  host  and  relative,  the  venerable  General 
Lyon,"  which  was  drank  by  all  standing. 

Then  the  veteran  got  up  and  in  a  few  earnest  words 
expressed  his  appreciation  of  the  compliment  and  his 
esteem  for  his  guests,  and  then  he  gave  somebody  else's 
health. 

Colonel  Seymour  arose  and  proposed  the  health  of — 

•'  Our  beautiful  young  friend,  Mrs.  Alexander  Lyon. 
And  it  was  honored  with  enthusiasm. 

Then,  some  unlucky  idiot  had  the  mishap  to  rise  and 
name — 

"Mr.  Alexander  Lyon,"  tearfully  adding — "'Though 
lost  to  sight,  to  memory  dear.'  " 

And  a  panic  fell  upon  all  that  part  of  the  company  who 
knew  or  suspected  the  state  of  the  case  with  that  interest- 
ing absentee. 

But  old  General  Lyon  quickly  dispelled  the  panic. 
Would  that  true  gentleman  suffer  Brasilia's  feelings  to 
l>e  wounded  ?  No,  indeed.  He  was  the  very  first  to  fill 
his  glass  and  rise  to  his  feet.  His  example  was  followed 
by  all  present.  And  unworthy  Alick's  health  was  drank 
with  the  rest.  And  while  the  brave  old  man  honored  the 
toast  with  his  lips,  he  prayed  in  his  heart  for  the  prod- 
igal's reformation  and  return. 

And  oh!  how  Brasilia  understood  and  loved  and 
thanked  him ! 

Other  speeches  were  made  and  other  toasts  drank 

Then  tea  and  coffee  were  handed  around. 

And  one  set  of  feasters  gave  way  to  another,  like  the 
flies  in  the  fable  of  old. 

The  rising  set  immediately  went  out  upon  the  lawn, 
where  the  brass  band  was  in  full  play  on  their  stand,  and 
where  quadrilles  were  performed  upon  the  greensward. 

The  feasting  hi  the  house  and  the  music  and  dancing 
on  the  lawn  was  kept  up  the  whole  of  that  bright  May 
day,  even  to  the  going  down  of  the  sun. 

Never  before  had  the  youth  of  the  neighborhood  had 


A  MAY-DAY  MARRIAGE.  77 

such  a  surfeit  of  frolicking.  They  voted  that  a  marriage 
in  May  weather,  and  by  daylight,  with  unlimited  dance 
music,  greensward,  sunshine  and  sweetmeats,  was  the 
most  delightful  thing  in  the  world. 

In  the  very  height  of  the  festivities,  at  about  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  the  bride,  attended  by  Drusilla,  slipped 
quietly  away  to  her  own  chamber  and  changed  her  bridal 
robes  and  veil,  for  a  traveling  habit  of  silver  gray  Irish 
poplin,  and  a  bonnet  of  gray  drawn  silk. 

The  traveling  carriage  had  been  quietly  drawn  up  to 
the  door  where  Richard  Hammond  waited  to  take  away 
his  bride,  and  General  Lyon  stood  to  bid  farewell  to  his- 
child. 

When  Anna  was  ready  to  go  down,  she  turned  and 
threw  her  arms  around  Brasilia's  neck  and  burst  into 
tears. 

"  Oh,  Drusa ! "  she  sobbed,  "  be  good  to  my  dear  grand- 
father. Oh  !  love  him,  Drusa,  for  my  sake  !  I  was  all  he 
had  left,  and  it  must  be  so  hard  to  give  me  up !  Oh, 
Drusa,  love  him  and  pet  him.  He  is  old  and  almost  child- 
less. When  I  am  gone,  put  little  Leonard  in  his  arms ; 
it  will  comfort  him ;  and  stay  with  him  as  much  as  you 
can.  It  is  so  sad  to  be  left  alone  in  old  age.  But  I  know, 
my  dear,  you  will  do  all  you  can  to  console  him  without 
my  asking  you." 

"  Indeed  I  will,  dear  Anna,"  said  Drusilla,  through  her 
falling  tears. 

"  I  will  not  be  gone  long.  I  shall  be  back  in  three 
weeks  at  farthest.  I  do  not  like  to  leave  him  at  his  age. 
He  is  past  seventy.  His  time  may  be  short  on  earth. 
How  can  I  tell  ?  That  was  the  reason  why  I  would  not 
go  to  Europe  for  my  wedding  tour.  But  oh,  Drusilla,  I 
did  not  know  how  much  I  loved  my  dear  grandfather 
until  this  day.  And  to  think  that  in  the  course  of  nature 
I  must  lose  him  some  day,  and  may  lose  him  soon,"  said 
Anna,  weeping  afresh. 

"  My  darling  Anna,  your  grandfather  is  a  very  strong 
and  hale  old  man  ;  his  habits  are  regular  and  temperate, 
and  his  life  quiet  and  wholesome  He  is  likely  to  live 
twenty  or  thirty  years  longer,"  answered  Drusilla, 
cheerily. 

"  Heaven  grant  it,"  fervently  breathed  Anna. 


78  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

And  then  she  turned  and  went  down-stairs,  followed 
by  Dmsilla. 

"  Good-by,  my  darling.  I  will  kiss  you  here.  I  must  save 
the  last  one  for  my  dear  grandfather,"  said  Anna,  em- 
bracing her  friend  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  Good-by,  and  Heaven  bless  you ! "  responded  Brasilia, 
heartily. 

Anna  went  forward  to  General  Lyon,  who  took  her  in 
his  arms,  and  smiling,  kissed  and  blessed  her.  And  his 
last  words,  as  he  gave  her  into  the  charge  of  her  husband, 
were  cheerful : 

"  You  will  have  a  delightful  run  by  moonlight  up  the 
bay,  my  dear,"  he  said. 

Anna,  striving  to  keep  back  her  tears,  let  Dick  lead 
her  to  the  carriage,  and  place  her  ha  it.  He  immediately 
followed,  and  seated  himself  by  her  side.  Old  Jacob 
cracked  his  whip,  and  the  horses  started. 

So  quickly  and  quietly  had  this  little  scene  passed,  that 
the  carriage  was  bowling  along  the  avenue  before  the 
company  on  the  lawn  suspected  what  was  being  done. 

Then,  eager  whispers  of  : 

"  The  bride  is  going !  the  bride  is  going !  "  ran  through 
the  crowd. 

And  quadrilles  were  suddenly  broken  up,  and  dancers 
came  flocking  to  the  door,  knowing  that  they  were  too 
late  to  bid  her  good-by,  yet  still  exclaiming  to  each  other : 

"  The  bride  is  going !  the  bride  is  going !  " 

«  The  bride  is  gone,  my  dear  young  friends,"  said  Gen- 
eral Lyon,  kindly,  "  but  she  leaves  me  to  make  her  adieus, 
and  to  pray  you  not  to  let  her  departure  interrupt  your 
enjoyment.  The  bride  and  bridegroom  have  to  meet  the 
Washington  steamer  that  passes  the  Stormy  Petrel  land- 
ing at  about  nine  o'clock.  Now,  '  on  with  the  dance  ! '  " 

And  the  young  folks  immediately  took  the  old  gentle- 
man at  his  word,  and  the  music  struck  up,  and  the  danc- 
ing recommenced. 

And  so  Anna  and  Dick  departed  for  Washington  city 
on  their  way  to  New  York. 

Much  discussion  had  been  held  on  the  subject  of  that 
marriage  tour.  Many  suggestions  had  been  made.  Eu- 
rope had  been  mentioned.  But  Anna  had  scouted  that 
idea. 


GENERAL  LYON'S  CONSOLATION.  79 

**  None  but  a  lunatic,"  she  had  said,  "  would  ever 
think  of  taking  a  sea  voyage,  and  risking  sea-sickness  in 
the  honeymoon." 

And  for  her  part  she  positively  declined  putting  Dick's 
love  to  so  severe  a  test  in  the  earliest  days  of  their  mar- 
ried life. 

Such  had  been  Anna's  outspoken  objection  to  the  trip 
to  Europe.  But  her  secret  objection  was  that  it  would 
take  her  too  far  and  keep  her  too  long  from  her  beloved 
and  venerable  grandfather.  So  at  last  it  had  been  settled 
to  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties  that  they  should  make  a 
tour  of  the  Northern  cities.  And  now  they  had  gone. 

But  the  wedding  guests  remained.  The  music  and  the 
dancing  were  kept  up  without  flagging  until  the  sun  set, 
and  the  darkness  and  dampness  of  the  night  had  come  on. 

Then  the  two  self-appointed  "  marshals  of  the  day  "  took 
upon  themselves  to  pay  and  discharge  the  brass  band. 

The  company  soon  followed  the  musicians,  and  old  Lyon 
Hall  was  once  more  left  to  peace  and  quietness. 


CHAPTER  X. 

GENERAL    LYON's    CONSOLATION. 

In  this  dim  world  of  clouding  cares 
We  rarely  know  till  wildered  eyes 
See  white  wings  lessening  up  the  skies 

The  angels  with  us  unawares  ! — MASSETT. 

AFTER  the  last  guests  were  gone,  the  house  was  very 
quiet. 

General  Lyon  went  up  to  his  study. 

Brasilia  lingered  a  little  while  below  to  give  orders  to 
the  servants. 

"  Close  up  all  the  rooms  on  this  floor  now.  Disturb 
nothing  until  morning.  I  wish  everything  to  be  kept 
very  still  so  that  the  General  may  rest  and  recover  from 
the  fatigue  of  this  exciting  day.  Marcy,  have  the  tea 
served  in  my  sitting  room.  Leo,  do  you  be  up  early  in 
the  morning  and  see  that  the  breakfast  parlor — the  little 


80  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

one — is  made  very  tidy  before  we  come  down.  The  other 
rooms  had  best  be  left  closed  until  the  General  goes  for 
his  daily  ride.  Then  they  can  be  restored  to  order." 

Having  thus  given  her  directions  to  ensure  the  comfort 
of  the  old  gentleman,  Brasilia  went  up  into  the  nursery 
where  her  little  Leonard  was  laughing,  crowing  and 
screaming  in  his  nurse's  arms. 

"  I  do  think  as  he's  beside  himself,  ma'am,"  said  Pina. 
"  He'll  never  get  over  this  wedding  as  long  as  he  lives. 
When  I  had  him  out  on  the  lawn  there,  and  the  band  was 
playing  and  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  dancing,  he 
jumped  so  as  I  could  hardly  keep  him  from  leaping  out 
of  my  arms." 

"  He  did  enjoy  it  as  much  as  any  of  us,  didn't  he,  Pina  ?  " 
said  the  young  mother,  standing  and  smiling  over  the 
nurse  and  child. 

"  Oh,  didn't  he  though,  ma'am  ?  Look  at  him  now ; 
it's  in  him  yet !  And  such  a  time  I  had  bringing  him  in 
the  house.  He  did  not  want  to  come  in  at  all,  even  after 
the  music  went  away.  He  didn't  cry,  ma'am,  but  he 
made  such  signs,  and  then  he  fought.  Yes,  indeed  he 
did,  ma'am,  he  fought  me  in  the  face  because  I  brought 
him  in." 

**  Why,  Pina,  I  can  hardly  believe  it ! " 

"  But,  you  may,  ma'am  !  Oh,  he's  got  a  will  of  his  own, 
I  do  tell  you !  I  couldn't  make  my  peace  with  him  until 
J  had  lighted  all  the  wax  candles  in  the  place !  See  what 
an  illumination  there  is,  ma'am !  Enough  to  blind  any 
body  but  a  boy  baby.  And  such  work  to  get  him  un- 
dressed. He  wouldn't  have  his  finery  off  forever  so 
long.  He  wanted  to  dance  in  it.  And  then,  after  I  had 
loosened  it  and  got  it  off  little  by  little  with  sheer  con- 
juration, would  you  believe  it,  ma'am?  he  wanted  to 
dance  in  his  sacred  skin,  like  a  North- American  Indian ! 
I  have  got  his  nightgown  on  at  last ;  though  haw  I  ever 
got  it  on  with  his  prancing  and  dancing,  goodness  knows. 
But,  as  for  his  little  red  shoes,  I'll  defy  mortial  man  or 
-woman  to  get  them  off  his  feet  except  by  main  force ! 
When  I  try  to  do  it  he  kicks  so  fast  you  would  think 
there  were  nineteen  pair  of  feet  hi  nineteen  pair  of  boots 
instead  of  one  ! " 

**  Lenny  will  let  his  mammy  take  off  his  boots,"  said 


GENERAL  LYON'S  CONSOLATION.  81 

Drusilla,  kneeling  by  the  baby's  feet  and  making  an 
essay. 

Lenny  would  let  his  mamma  do  a  great  many  things 
to  him,  but  he  would  by  no  means  let  her  remove  his  red 
shoes.  His  little  legs  flew  so  fast  in  resistance  that  you 
could  not  have  told  one  from  the  other. 

"  He  means  never  to  part  with  them,  ma'am,"  laughed 
Pina. 

"  We  can  take  them  off  when  he  goes  to  sleep,"  smiled 
Drusilla. 

"  But  there's  no  sleep  in  his  eyes,  ma'am,  nor  won't  be 
for  hours !  He'll  keep  awake  to  watch  his  boots  and  to 
dance !  Goodness  gracious  me !  My  arms  are  almost 
pulled  out  of  their  sockets  holding  him  while  he  dances." 

"  I  will  take  him  presently,  Pina,  as  soon  as  I  change 
my  dress,"  said  Drusilla. 

And  she  went  and  took  off  her  wreath  of  roses,  her 
necklace  and  bracelets  of  pearl,  and  her  rich  moire  an- 
tique dress  ;  and  put  on  a  neat  white  muslin  wrapper, 
whose  pure  color  and  perfect  fit  became  her  well. 

Then  she  took  her  dancing  babe  ;  but  not  to  put  him 
to  sleep  just  yet.  Little  Master  Leonard  had  a  duty  to 
do  before  he  could  be  put  to  bed.  She  carried  him  into 
the  next  room,  which  was  her  own  pretty  private  par- 
lor. 

The  room  was  very  inviting.  A  small,  cheerful  wood 
fire,  very  acceptable  this  chilly  May  evening,  was  blaz- 
ing on  the  hearth. 

The  tea-table  with  its  snowy,  damask  cloth,  its  silver 
service  and  clear  China,  was  standing  before  the  fire- 
place. 

A  large  easy  chair,  with  a  foot  cushion  was  drawn  up 
on  the  right  side  ;  and  Drusilla's  own  little  sewing  chair 
was  on  the  left. 

Marcy  was  in  attendance. 

"  This  is  all  quite  right.  Now  do  you  wait  here  until 
I  bring  the  General  in,  and  then  you  can  serve  tea,"  said 
Drusilla,  as  with  her  baby  in  her  arms  she  passed  out 
into  the  hall  and  on  towards  General  Lyon's  study. 

She  opened  the  door. 

The  little  room  was  dark  and  chill,  but  the  lights  from 
the  hall  shone  in,  and  revealed  to  her  the  form  of  the  old 
6 


82  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

man,  seated  at  the  writing  table,  with  his  arms  folded  on 
it,  and  his  head  bowed  down  upon  them.  It  was  an  atti- 
tude of  depression,  of  sleep  or  of  death. 

Of  death !  a  dread  pang  seized  her  heart,  and  held  her 
spell-bound  in  the  doorway  as  she  gazed  on  him.  He 
had  not  heard  her  approach.  He  was  not  disturbed  by 
the  inflow  of  light.  He  remained,  indeed,  as  still  as  death  ! 

She  was  afraid  to  stir,  almost  to  breathe !  She  had 
heard  of  old  men  dying  just  so  !  Oh,  had  not  his  own 
brother,  his  youngest  brother,  died  that  way  not  three 
years  since  ?— died  sitting  in  his  chair  by  his  Christmas 
fire,  surrounded  by  his  whole  family  and  friends  ?  died 
with  nothing  on  earth  to  provoke  death  ?  died  from  no 
excitement  no  grief,  no  disease  apparently  ?  " 

And  here  was  the  elder  brother,  a  man  of  like  constitu- 
tion, who  had  been  severely  tried  this  day  by  the  parting 
from  his  beloved  and  only  surviving  child,  and  now  had 
come  away  to  this  chill,  dark  room,  and  had  sat  in  solitude 
for  an  hour  or  more ! 

Brasilia's  conscience  smote  her  terribly  for  what  she 
called  the  false  and  fatal  delicacy  that  had  prevented  her 
from  following  him  immediately  to  his  retreat. 

"  Oh !  if  he  should  be  dead,  dead  alone  in  this  bleak 
room,  she  would  never  forgive  herself,  though  she  had 
done  all  for  the  best. 

All  these  thoughts  and  feelings  flashed  like  lightning 
through  her  brain  and  heart  in  the  moment  that  she 
stood  panic-stricken  in  the  door. 

Then  full  of  awe,  scarcely  breathing,  she  crept  near 
him,  laid  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  murmured 
softly : 

«  Uncle." 

«  My  darling,"  responded  the  old  man,  looking  up  with 
a  smile. 

**  Thank  Heaven !  "  fervently  aspirated  Brasilia. 

"What  is  the  matter,  my  darling?  What  troubles 
you?"  gently  questioned  the  old  gentleman,  perceiving 
her  alarm. 

"  I — I  found  you  sitting  here  in  the  cold  and  dark,  and 
I  feared  that  something  ailed  you.  Nothing  does  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  my  child,  except  a  little  natural  but  unwise 
regret.  Certainly,  she  had  to  marry.  It  is  a  woman's 


GENERAL  LYON'S  CONSOLATION.  83 

destiny.  And  it  is  so  well  that  in  marrying  she  will  not 
have  to  leave  me.  Still,  still  I  feel  it,  darling.  She  was 
all  I  had  left  in  the  world." 

"  She  will  be  back  in  three  weeks,  dear  uncle ;  back  so 
soon  that  we  shall  scarcely  have  time  to  get  the  house  set 
in  order  again  for  her  reception.  And  now  will  you  look 
at  little  Lenny  ?  He  has  come  to  bid  you  good-night,  and 
to  ask  you  to  come  and  take  tea  with  his  mamma,"  said 
Brasilia,  seating  the  boy  on  the  old  man's  knee. 

By  no  manner  of  baby-babble  could  little  Leonard  pos- 
sibly bid  his  godfather  good-night,  or  invite  him  to  tea  ; 
but  he  would  put  his  little  arms  around  the  veteran's 
neck,  and  press  his  lips  to  the  veteran's  mouth,  and 
laugh,  and  own  his  love  and  joy. 

"  Ah !  may  heaven  forgive  me  for  being  so  forgetful,  so 
ungrateful  as  to  say  that  I  had  no  one  but  my  Anna  left 
me  in  the  world,  when  I  have  little  Lenny  and  his  dear 
mother,"  said  the  old  man,  pressing  the  child  to  his 
bosom,  and  drawing  Drusilla  to  his  side.  But  oh !  my 
dear,  you  know  how  it  is — how  it  always  has  been,  and 
always  will  be  with  poor  human  nature  in  all  such  cases. 
The  shepherd  of  the  Scripture  parable.  He  thought  not 
of  his  ninety  and  nine  sheep,  safe  in  the  fold,  but  he 
mourned  for  the  one  lost." 

"  But  Anna  is  not  lost  to  you,  dear  uncle.  She  is  only 
lost  to  sight,  and  that  only  for  a  little  while.  Think, 
dear  uncle,  in  the  marriage  of  Anna  and  Dick  you  have 
not  lost  a  daughter,  but  gained  a  son." 

"  That  is  true,  my  dear." 

"  Think  how  devoted  they  are  to  you.  They  are  as 
loyal  to  you  as  subjects  to  a  sovereign." 

"  I  know — I  know." 

"They  will  never  leave  you  unless  you  send  them 
away." 

"  I  know ;  I  see  what  a  morbid  old  fellow  I  have  been." 

"  No,  no,  not  so,  I  think.  Surely  it  is  very  natural 
that  you  should  have  such  feelings ;  but  it  is  also  very 
desirable  that  you  should  rally  from  them." 

«  And  I  will,  my  dear,  I  will." 

Little  Leonard,  fatigued  by  his  former  exertions,  and 
perhaps  also  a  little  awed  by  the  solemnity  of  the  dis- 
course, had  remained  still  for  at  least  three  minutea. 


84:  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

But  now  he  recommenced  to  prance  and  dance  and  ex- 
press his  impatience  in  every  possible  way  that  a  baby  of 
six  months  old  could. 

u  You  are  almost  too  much  for  my  stiff  old  arms,  little 
fellow !  "  smiled  the  General,  as  he  supported  the  leaping 
baby. 

«  Come,  let  us  go  to  my  room  and  have  some  tea,"  said 
Brasilia,  rising  and  leading  the  way,  followed  by  the  old 
man  with  the  child  over  his  shoulder. 

"  This  is  snug,  this  is  cozy,  this  is  really  very  comfort- 
able indeed,"  said  the  General,  as  he  followed  Drusilla  into 
the  pretty,  cheerful  sitting-room  and  saw  the  bright  fire 
and  the  neat  tea-table. 

"  Yes,  this  is  pleasant  after  our  day  of  excitement. 
Now  kiss  little  Leonard  good-night  and  let  him  go  to 
sleep,"  said  Drusilla,  as  she  rang  her  little  silver  hand-bell. 

Pina  came  in  to  take  little  Leonard,  who  leaped  to  meet 
her  arms,  for  he  was  very  fond  of  her. 

General  Lyon  pressed  the  babe  to  his  bosom  and  kissed 
him  fondly,  and  then  handed  him  over  to  his  nurse,  who- 
bore  him  off  to  the  nursery. 

Then  Marcy  came  hi  with  the  tea  urn. 

Drusilla  made  tea  for  the  old  gentleman. 

The  sound  of  Pina's  rocking-chair  and  cradle-song  came 
soothingly  to  their  ears,  as  to  the  child's  for  which  ther 
were  intended. 

"  This  is  very  sweet  and  peaceful,  dear,  and  I  thank 
you  for  it  all,"  said  the  General,  softly  smiling. 

u  No,  but,  dear  uncle,  it  is  all  your  own ;  and  it  is  I 
who  should  thank  you  for  the  happiness  of  sharing  it,n 
quietly  replied  Drusilla. 

"  No,  no,  no,"  said  the  General,  shaking  his  head. 

«  Yes,  yes,  yes,"  laughed  the  little  lady. 

They  lingered  long  over  that  quiet,  pleasant  tea  ;  and 
then,  after  she  had  rang  for  a  servant,  and  had  the  table 
cleared,  she  went  to  the  piano  and  sang  and  played  to  the 
old  gentleman  for  an  hour  or  more. 

She  sang  all  her  favorite  comic  songs,  but  carefully 
eschewed  the  sentimental  ones  ;  for  she  wished  to  raise  his 
spirits  and  not  to  melt  his  heart.  Towards  the  last  of  her 
singing  he  came  and  stood  behind  her ;  and  although  he 
did  not  know  enough  of  the  notes  to  turn  the  pages  for  her 


GENERAL  LYON'S  CONSOLATION,  85 

tit  the  proper  moment,  he  stood  and  beat  time  to  the  music 
and  sometimes  joined  in  the  chorus. 

At  last,  when  she  thought  he  had  had  enough  of  it,  she 
arose  and  closed  the  piano. 

Then,  after  an  interval  of  a  few  minutes,  she  took  her 
Bible  and  laid  it  on  the  table  before  him. 

He  bowed  his  head,  opened  it  and  read  a  chapter  aloud. 
And  then  they  two  joined  in  offering  up  their  evening 
worship. 

"  Well,  my  darling,"  said  General  Lyon,  as  he  arose  to 
bid  her  good-night,  "  I  have  to  thank  you  for  much  com- 
fort. This  first  evening  that  I  dreaded  so  much  has 
passed  off  very  pleasantly.  God  bless  you,  my  child."  And 
so  he  withdrew  from  the  room. 

Brasilia  sat  on  for  a  little  while  gazing  dreamily  into 
the  fire,  and  then  she  also  retired  to  rest,  drawing  her  sleep- 
ing infant  to  her  bosom. 

Very  early  the  next  morning  Brasilia  arose,  dressed  and 
went  down-stairs  to  make  sure  that  one  room  at  least  of 
all  that  had  been  thrown  into  confusion  by  the  wedding 
should  now  be  in  order  for  the  General's  breakfast. 

She  found  that  Leo  had  followed  her  directions,  and 
the  small  breakfast  parlor,  that  occupied  an  angle  of  the 
house  and  had  windows  opening  to  the  east  and  south, 
was  prepared  for  the  morning  meal. 

And  the  doors  of  all  the  disordered  rooms  were  closed. 

She  went  out  and  gathered  a  bouquet  of  early  spring 
flowers  and  put  them  in  a  vase  and  placed  them  on  the 
breakfast  table. 

And  then  she  plucked  a  few  young  buds  of  mint  and 
made  an  exquisite  julep,  and  sent  it  up  by  Leo  to  her 
uncle's  room. 

Jacob,  who  had  been  sent  at  sunrise  to  the  post-office, 
now  returned.  And  Brasilia  opened  the  mail-bag,  which 
was  found  to  contain  nothing  but  newspapers,  which  she 
iolded  and  laid  by  the  side  of  her  uncle's  plate. 

And  then  she  sat  down  to  await  his  coming. 

He  came  at  last,  smiling  on  her  as  he  entered,  and  took 
his  seat  at  the  table. 

"  You  are  the  angel  of  the  house,  my  child,"  he  said— 
"  the  angel  of  the  house  !  What  should  I  do  now  but 
for  you ! " 


86  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Dear  uncle,  what  should  I  do  without  you  f  What 
should  I  have  done  that  dreadful  night  but  for  your  sus- 
taining arm  ?  All  my  puny  efforts  to  serve  you  can  never 
cancel  that  debt.  I  shall  never  forget  that  night,"  ear- 
nestly answered  Brasilia. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  that  night,  Drusilla,  for  it  was 
then  I  received— 'an  angel  unawares.' " 

She  could  not  reply  to  these  words,  but  blushed  so  in- 
tensely that  the  old  man  forbore  farther  praise,  and  merely 
saying : 

"  But  it  does  not  become  you  and  me  to  compliment  one 
another,  my  darling,"  he  took  up  his  newspaper. 

Upon  the  whole,  this  was  a  very  cheerful  breakfast. 
When  it  was  over,  the  old  gentleman  ordered  his  horse, 
and  went  for  his  daily  ride. 

Drusilla  took  advantage  of  his  absence  to  set  all  the  serv- 
ants briskly  to  work  to  open  the  closed  rooms,  and  clear 
away  the  debris  of  yesterday's  great  festival,  so  that  by 
the  time  he  should  return  the  whole  house  should  be  re- 
stored to  order. 

The  abundant  remains  of  the  feast  were  distributed  to 
the  poor  around. 

Moreover,  she  sent  a  note  to  the  Seymours,  asking  them 
to  come  and  spend  the  evening.  And  the  messenger  that 
carried  it  brought  back  their  acceptance  of  the  invitation. 

Drusilla  and  her  uncle  dined  tete-a-tete. 

In  the  evening  the  Seymours  came  according  to  agree- 
ment ;  and  Drusilla  gave  them  music.  They  stayed  till 
ten  o'clock,  and  then  took  leave. 

"  No  wonder  that  old  comrade  of  mine  should  go  mad 
over  your  music,  my  darling.  I  am  not  a  music-maniac 
myself,  generally,  but  I  am  always  profoundly  affected  by 
yours,"  said  the  General,  when  they  were  gone. 

Again  Drusilla  blushed  deeply  under  the  praise,  but 
then  recovering  herself  with  a  light  laugh,  she  answered  : 

"  Why,  you  see,  uncle,  I  think  this  is  the  way  of  it. 
You  and  the  Colonel  inspire  me.  Such  appreciating 
hearers  as  yourself  and  your  friend  must  necessarily  in- 
spire even  the  very  poorest  performer  to  do  her  very  best." 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut,  my  child ;  you  know  better  !  But,  there, 
I  will  say  no  more  on  that  subject !  Good  night,  my  dar- 
ling," he  said. 


GENERAL  LYON'S  CONSOLATION.  87 

And  so  closed  the  first  dreaded  day  of  Anna's  absence. 
And  all  the  succeeding  days  were  quite  as  pleasant. 

Drusilla  would  not  let  her  old  friend  be  lonesome. 
She  planned  visits  for  him  and  herself  to  his  favorite 
houses  ;  and  she  invited  his  favorite  friends  to  dinner  or 
to  tea.  She  often  accompanied  the  old  man  on  his  morn- 
ing rides,  her  gentle  white  mare  ambling  by  the  side  of 
his  steady  old  horse.  She  often  invited  him  to  take  a 
seat  in  the  open  carriage  when  she  went  out  in  the  after- 
noon to  give  her  little  boy  an  airing. 

And  she  played  and  sang  indefatigably  to  please  Colonel 
Seymour,  so  that  he  might  come  over  every  evening, 
"  rain  or  shine,"  to  keep  her  uncle  company. 

Anna's  and  Dick's  letters  came  two  or  three  in  a  week. 
They  were  not  very  long,  for  they  were  written  en  route  ; 
but  they  were  interesting  and  affectionate.  They  were 
filled  with  graphic  sketches  of  their  journey,  and  with 
warm  expressions  of  tenderness  for  the  "  dear  ones  at 
home,"  and  messages  of  kind  regard  to  good  friends  around. 
The  bride  and  groom  were  moving  rapidly  from  point  to 
point  along  the  Canadian  frontier,  so  that  in  answering 
them  the  General  and  his  niece  had  to  direct  their  letters 
a  few  stages  in  advance  of  the  travelers.  As,  for  instance, 
the  answer  of  a  letter  post-marked  Lewisburg,  would  be 
directed  to  Montreal. 

Thus,  through  one  happy  divertisement  or  another,  but 
chiefly  through  Brasilia's  affectionate  solicitude  the  "  days 
of  absence  "  slipped  imperceptibly  away ;  they  had  now 
brought  the  close  of  the  last  week  of  the  honeymoon.  The 
travelers  were  expected  home  on  Saturday  evening,  and 
the  house  was  in  perfect  order  and  beauty  to  receive  the 
wedded  pair. 


88  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

A  JOYOUS    MEETING  IN   JUNE. 

June  with  its  roses,  June 
The  gladdest  month  in  the  capricious  year, 
With  its  thick  foliage  and  its  sunlight  clear, 

And  with  a  drowsy  tune, 
Of  the  bright,  leaping  waters  as  they  pass 
Laughingly  on  amid  the  springing  grass. 

ANNA  and  Dick  returned  rather  sooner  than  they  were 
expected ;  but  not  sooner  than  Old  Lyon  Hall  was  ready, 
and  its  inmates  anxious  to  receive  them. 

On  Saturday  morning,  while  General  Lyon,  Drusilla  and 
little  Leonard  with  his  nurse,  were  all  out  on  the  lawn  en- 
joying the  splendor  of  the  early  June  day,  before  breakfast, 
the  wagon  from  the  Foaming  Tankard  was  seen  approach- 
ing the  house. 

"  What  can  that  mean  ?  "  inquired  the  old  gentleman, 
looking  at  it,  as  it  rumbled  on  towards  the  house. 

"  Perhaps  Anna  and  Dick  to  disencumber  themselves, 
have  sent  the  luggage  on  in  advance,"  suggested  Drusilla. 

"  But,  as  they  are  to  come  down  by  to-day's  boat  that 
would  scarcely  be  worth  while,"  reflected  the  old  gentle- 
man. 

While  they  were  discussing  the  question,  the  wagon, 
instead  of  going  round  to  the  servants'  entrance  as  it 
would  have  done  had  it  contained  only  luggage,  rattled 
up  to  the  front  of  the  house. 

And  the  instant  it  stopped,  Anna  jumped  out,  and  ran 
to  her  grandfather,  who  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"  My  darling  daughter, — my  darling,  darling  daughter, 
I  am  so  delighted  to  see  you,"  he  exclaimed  over  and  over 
again,  as  he  pressed  her  to  his  heart,  while  she  answered 
him  only  with  smiles  and  kisses,  and  both  forgot  that 
anybody  else  was  waiting  to  be  noticed. 

Meanwhile,  Dick  was  shaking  hands  with  Drusilla,  and 
chirping  to  little  Leonard,  and  pulling  rattles  and  whistles 
and  dancing  jacks  out  of  his  pocket,  and  hi  his  eagerness 
doing  everything  at  the  same  time. 

"  Let  me  look  in  your  face,  dear  child,"  said  the  old  man, 


A  JOYOUS  MEETING  IN  JUNE.  89 

taking  the  bride's  head  between  his  hands,  and  gazing 
wistfully  into  her  tearful  but  laughing  eyes ;  "  are  you 
happy,  my  Anna?" 

"  Yes,  dear  grandpa,"  said  Anna,  earnestly,  as  her  eyes 
overflowed. 

"  Quite  happy  ?  "  anxiously  persisted  the  veteran. 

"  Well — no,"  answered  Anna,  laughing,  and  making  a 
face,  "  perfect  bliss  is  not  the  boon  of  mortals,  I  believe. 
And,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  have  a  corn  that  troubles  me,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  slightest  possible  twing  of  neuralgia 
caught  on  the  boat  last  night — moon-gazing." 

"  Oh,  you  came  on  the  night  boat  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  our  first  plan  was  to  stop  in  the  city  last  night, 
but  we  remembered  our  pleasant  trip  on  the  water  by 
moonlight  when  we  left  here  four  weeks  ago,  and  as  the 
moon  was  full,  we  thought  we  would  come  down  again 
by  moonlight,  and  then,  too,  we  thought  it  would  be  so 
much  pleasanter  to  reach  home  this  morning,  in  time  to 
breakfast  with  you,  and  have  the  whole  day  before  us  for 
reunion,  than  to  get  here  late  to-night,  too  tired  to  walk 
or  do  anything  else  but  get  supper  and  go  to  bed.  Don't 
you  agree  with  me  that  it  was  best  to  come  home  now, — 
just  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  darling,  that  I  do,"  answered  the  General, 
heartily  ;  "  but  I  am  sorry  you  have  got  neuralgia." 

Anna  looked  at  him,  quizzically. 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  have  got  it,  or  ever  had  it ; 
but  I  am  quite  certain  about  the  corn.  Now,  ain't  you 
going  to  speak  to  Dick  ?  " 

"  Dick !  Certainly ;  how  do  you  do,  my  dear  boy  ?  A 
hundred  welcomes  home  ! "  exclaimed  the  General,  releas- 
ing Anna  from  his  embrace,  and  turning  to  greet  the  *•  un- 
lucky dog." 

Dick  was  then  in  the  act  of  tossing  his  godson  high  in 
his  arms,  until  he  made  him  laugh  and  crow  aloud,  and 
then  looking  him  solemnly  in  the  face,  and  saying : 

"  I  am  your  godfather,  sir.  Treat  me  with  more  respect, 
and  don't  be  taking  me  for  your  equals  !  " 

Now  he  turned  his  bright  face,  and  held  out  his  eager 
hand  to  receive  his  uncle's  clasp,  saying : 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  get  home,  sir,  and  gladder  still  to 
see  you." 


90  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Anna  had  gone  to  embrace  Brasilia. 

"  How  happy  I  am  to  see  you  again  ! "  she  said. 

u  And  I  you,"  answered  Drusa,  smiling. 

"  How  well  you  are  looking,  dear ! "  exclaimed  each  to 
the  other,  speaking  simultaneously. 

"  And  now,  Dick,  give  me  little  Leonard  ;  I  want  to  look 
at  him !  Remember,  sir,  if  you  are  his  godfather,  I  am 
his  godmother,  and  have  my  rights.  Don't  be  trying  to 
exercise  man's  usurped  prerogative  by  *  claiming  the 
child,' "  said  Anna,  holding  out  her  hands  for  the  boy. 

"I  shall  never  attempt  to  assert  man's  prerogative 
against  woman's  rights,'"  laughed  Dick  placing  the  child 
in  her  arms,  and  then  going  to  pay  and  dismiss  the  wagon 
which  was  now  unloaded  of  all  the  luggage  it  had  brought, 
and  was  ready  to  go. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  Anna,  my  dear,  how  came  you  to 
return  by  such  a  very  rude  and  primitive  conveyance  as 
that?  "  inquired  the  General,  as  the  great  old  wagon  rat- 
tled and  rumbled  past  on  its  way  back. 

"  Couldn't  get  any  other,  dear  grandpa  !  The  *  Foam- 
Ing  Tankard'  don't  boast  a  carriage  of  any  description 
except  this." 

"  If  I  had  only  known,  I  could  have  sent  the  coach  to 
meet  you.  I  should  have  sent  it  anyway  this  afternoon." 

u  But  you  wouldn't  have  had  me  to  wait  till  the  aiter- 
noon  for  it,  dear  grandpa  ?  "  laughed  Anna. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no !  by  no  means !  Only,  if  I  had  but 
known,  I  could  have  so  easily  sent  it.  Such  a  conveyance 
for  a  lady  to  come  in  ! n  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman,  as 
he  gazed  after  the  retreating  wagon  that  rather  jumped 
and  bounced  along  than  rolled. 

"  It  was  delightful !  It  was  better  than  a  hard  trot- 
ting-horse  !  I  liked  to  be  tossed  as  much  as  Master  Leonard 
himself  does  !  It  has  given  me  such  a  shaking  up  and 
such  an  appetite  for  breakfast  as  I  never  had  before  !  I 
aim  famished,  grandpa  !  " 

"  Oh,  exactly  !  exactly  !  so  you  must  be  !  Drusa !  Drusa, 
my  dear !  "  exclaimed  the  old  grentleman,  looking  around 
for  his  young  volunteer  housekeeper. 

But  Drusilla  had  already  vanished  within  to  give  her 
orders. 

"And  now,  dear  grandpa,  I  will  go  to  my  room  to 


A  JOYOUS  MEETING  IN  JUNE.  91 

change  my  dress.  I  presume  it  is  ready  for  me,  and  I 
know  where  to  find  it.  Dick,  see  that  the  luggage  is  sent 
up,"  said  Anna,  turning  to  go  into  the  house. 

But  she  was  met  at  the  door  by  all  the  household  serv- 
ants, who  had  learned  her  arrival  from  Brasilia  and  had 
come  out  to  welcome  her. 

Hands  were  shaken  and  good- wishes  heartily  offered 
and  warmly  received,  and  then  Anna  passed  on  to  her 
apartment. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  she  hurried  down-stairs,  look- 
ing fresh  and  blooming  in  her  white  muslin  dress  with 
blue  ribbons. 

The  family  were  waiting  for  her  in  the  breakfast  room, 
and  as  soon  as  she  entered  she  was  greeted  again  and 
seated  in  the  pleasantest  seat  at  the  table. 

All  the  windows  were  open,  and  all  the  brightness, 
beauty,  fragrance,  and  music  of  June  filled  the  place. 
The  morning  sunshine  played  upon  every  polished  point ; 
the  fresh  breeze  danced  with  every  fold  of  drapery ;  the 
aroma  of  the  clove  pink,  the  cape  jessamine,  the  tea  rose, 
the  clematis,  and  the  heliotrope  perfumed  the  air.  Hum- 
ming-birds flitted  about  like  winged  flowers.  And  the 
song  of  the  thrush  in  the  sweet-briar  bush  was  echoed  by 
the  mocking-bird  from  the  acacia  tree  ! 

"  What  a  beautiful  morning !  And  what  a  beautiful 
scene!  In  all  our  travels,  grandpa,  we  did  not  see  so 
sweet  an  old  home  as  this ! "  said  Anna  enthusiastically. 

"  1  am  glad  you  think  so,  my  dear ;  but  great  allowance 
must  be  made  for  your  natural  attachment  to  your  birth- 
place," smiled  the  General,  as  he  sipped  his  coffee. 

"Now,  Brasilia,  what  do  you  say?"  inquired  Anna, 
appealing  to  her  friend. 

"  1  have  not  seen  very  much  of  the  world  to  compare 
this  with  other  places ;  but  still,  I  think  you  are  right, 
Anna.  It  is  a  '  sweet  old  home.'  It  is  perfectly  beauti- 
ful, and  besides  it  seems  to  me  that  every  one  who  was 
ever  born  here,  or  ever  lived  and  died  here,  must  have 
been  very  good  and  loving,  that  their  spirits  still  pervade 
the  place,  and  make  it  holy,"  said  Brasilia,  warmly. 

"  My  dear,  you  will  make  me  so  much  in  love  with  my 
home  that  I  shall  not  like  to  grow  old  and  die  and  leave 
it,"  said  the  General,  smiling. 


92  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"Dear  uncle,  please  to  believe  that  there  is  not  the 
slightest  necessity  for  you  to  grow  old,  much  less  to  die 
before  your  century  is  completed.  And  if  you  do  so  I 
shall  think  that  you  will  be  treating  your  loving  children 
very  badly,"  said  Drusilla. 

"My  dear!" 

"  Yes,  I  do.  I  think  the  deaths  of  most  people  who  die, 
come  of  their  indifference  to  the  power  that  the  Lord  has 
given  them  of  living  on.  Now,  I  think  that  you  have  the 
power  to  live  on  in  the  full  possession  of  all  your  facul- 
ties to  the  age  of  one  hundred  years  at  the  very  least,  and 
how  much  longer  I  don't  know.  And  I  shall  take  it  very 
hard  of  you,  if  you  don't  do  it,  uncle." 

"  Hem ;  I  shall  try  to  oblige  you  my  dear,"  said  the 
General,  dryly. 

"  I  hope  you  will !  for  you  know  I  expect  you  to  live  to 
see  your  namesake,  Leonard  Lyon,  junior,  a  bishop,  a 
judge  or  a  general,  (whichever  he  shall  please  to  be,  for 
it  will  depend  upon  his  choice  of  a  profession,)  or  even 
President  of  the  United  States.  The  highest  position  is 
open  to  competition  and  you  cannot  tell  what  he  may  be 
yet ;  you  must  live  to  see." 

"  Do  you  intend  to  live  your  century  out,  Drusilla  ?  " 

"  If  it  please  Providence,  yes ;  for  I  shall  try  to  preserve 
the  gift  of  life  he  has  given  me.  And  when  I  shall  be  a 
hundred  years  old,  my  little  Leonard  will  be  eighty-four, 
and  a  wigged  chief -justice,  or  a  mitred  archbishop  or 
something  equally  exalted.  And  I  should  not  wonder  if 
you  should  be  alive  and  merry  then." 

"  Oh,  tut,  tut,  tut !  you  are  laughing  at  me,  little 
Drusa !  " 

"  Heaven  forbid !  People  enough  have  lived  to  be  a 
hundred  and  forty.  Henry  Jenkins  lived  to  be  a  hundred 
and  sixty-nine,  and  even  then  he  did  not  die  from  old 
age,  or  from  disease,  but  from  sheer  imprudence,  I  might 
say  accident,  such  as  would  have  killed  any  man  at  any 
age." 

"My  dear  niece,  that  case  was  a  highly  exceptional 
one." 

u  Well,  and  why  shouldn't  you  make  your  own  case  a 
highly  exceptional  one  ?  " 

u  My  dear,  you  are  extravagant." 


A  JOYOUS  MEETING  IN  JUNE.  93 

M  Well,  maybe  I  am,  in  talking  about  a  hundred  ana 
sixty-nine  years;  but  I  do  positively  insist  upon  your 
living  a  full  century.  That  is  only  fair." 

"  My  darling,  our  prayers  should  be  not  so  much  for  a 
long  life  as  for  a  good  life." 

"  I  stand  corrected,"  said  Drusilla,  reverently  ;  "  but  for 
all  that  I  insist  upon  the  century  ;  for  I  think  it  was  the 
Lord's  design  that  man  should  live  so  long." 

"  Let  me  live  so  long  as  my  life  can  be  of  use  to  others 
and  no  longer,"  said  the  veteran. 

"  Your  life  is  of  use  to  others  as  long  as  it  gives  happi- 
ness to  others,  and  therefore  I  insist  upon  the  century," 
persisted  Drusilla. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  have  no  particular  objection,"  laughed 
the  General,  as  they  all  arose  from  the  table. 

Then  came  the  healthful  walk  around  the  grounds,  the 
General  with  his  darling  granddaughter  hanging  on  his 
arm,  and  Dick  and  Drusilla,  and  the  nurse  with  the  baby, 
sauntering  along  promiscuously. 

During  this  walk  Anna  gave  her  grandfather  a  very 
sprightly  and  entertaining  description  of  her  journey  ;  and 
in  return  he  told  her  how  he  and  Drusilla  had  passed  their 
time  at  home. 

Dick  amused  Drusilla  with  spirited  sketches  of  travel. 

When  the  windings  of  their  walk  brought  them  around 
home  again,  Dick  proposed  a  drive  through  the  forest  to 
Hammond  House  to  see  the  progress  of  the  works  there 
that  must,  he  thought,  be  now  near  their  completion 

And  as  all  assented  to  the  proposition,  the  General 
ordered  the  large  six-seated  family  carriage ;  and  the 
whole  party,  including  little  Leonard  and  his  nurse, 
started  for  a  long  drive  through  the  summer  woods  to 
Hammond  House. 

It  was  but  twelve  o'clock  noon  when  they  reached  the 
house — an  old  mansion  standing  upon  a  high  headland  at 
the  junction  of  Wild  River  with  the  Upper  Potomac. 

The  woods  grew  up  to  the  very  garden  wall  and  clus- 
tered thick  about  it. 

There  were  mountain  brooks  in  the  neighborhood,  run- 
ning down  to  the  Wild  River  and  swelling  its  stream 
before  it  fell  into  the  Potomac. 

The  trout  fisheries  there  were  considered  very  fine  in 


94  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

their  season.  And  it  was  a  part  of  the  family  programme 
for  coming  years  to  spend  the  fishing  season  at  Ham- 
mond. 

It  was  now  the  beginning  of  the  trout  fishing  season, 
and  so  the  General  and  Dick,  having  seen  Brasilia  and 
Anna  safely  in  the  house,  procured  fishing  tackle  from 
Byles,  the  overseer,  and  went  down  to  one  of  the  bright, 
gravelly-bedded  streams  to  fish. 

Anna  and  Drusilla,  with  the  babe  and  nurse,  were 
taken  by  Mrs.  Byles  to  a  clean  and  airy  bedroom,  where 
they  laid  off  their  bonnets  and  sat  down  to  rest. 

The  house  was  not  yet  in  order ;  nor  could  it  be  said  to 
be  in  disorder — the  papering,  painting,  glazing  and  gild- 
ing were  all  completed ;  but  the  handsome  new  furniture 
remained  in  its  packing  cases,  and  encumbered  halls  and 
passages. 

Overseer  Byles  and  his  wife  occupied  rooms  in  a  wing 
of  the  building  during  the  progress  of  the  repairs  ;  but 
they  were  to  move  to  a  neighboring  cottage  as  soon  as 
the  house  should  be  ready  to  receive  the  family. 

Our  party  spent  a  very  pleasant  day  at  Hammond 
House. 

Drusilla  and  Anna,  with  the  baby  and  the  nurse,  wan- 
dered about  the  grounds  and  along  the  banks  of  the 
river  until  they  were  tired,  and  then  they  sat  down  under 
the  trees  to  rest  and  to  talk. 

About  two  o'clock  General  Lyon  and  Dick  returned 
from  the  trout  stream  well  laden  with  spoil. 

They  gave  the  fish  to  Mrs.  Byles,  with  a  request  that 
she  would  have  them  dressed  for  their  dinner,  and  have 
the  table  set  out  in  the  open  air  between  three  broad 
oak  trees  where  the  shade  was  thickest. 

At  four  o'clock  they  were  called  to  dinner — a  sylvan 
repast  served  alfresco. 

There  were  trout,  roast  lamb  with  mint  sauce,  and 
green  peas,  potatoes  and  lettuce,  and  for  dessert  cherries, 
strawberries  and  ice-cream.  That  was  all. 

**  But  if  I  had  known  in  time  that  you  were  coming, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  would  have  got  up  something 
more  acceptable,"  said  the  housekeeper,  apologetically. 

"I  defy  you  to  have  done  that,  Mrs.  Byles.  Your 
dinner  is  excellent,"  replied  the  General.  And  all  the 


A  JOYOUS  MEETING  IN  JUNE.  95 

other  members  of  the  party  agreed  with  him,  and  proved 
their  sincerity  upon  the  edibles  set  before  them. 

Immediately  after  dinner  they  were  served  with  ex- 
cellent coffee  and  tea. 

Then  the  General  ordered  the  carriage  for  their  return 
home. 

After  another  pleasant  ride  through  the  forest,  they 
reached  Old  Lyon  Hall  at  sunset. 

"  We  have  had  a  delightful  day  at  your  other  house, 
Dick,"  said  the  General,  heartily. 

"  Our  other  home,  sir,  if  you  please  ;  for  if  Anna  and 
myself  are  to  be  at  home  at  Old  Lyon  Hall  during  one 
period  of  the  year,  you  and  Drusilla  must  be  at  home  at 
Hammond  House  during  another  part,"  said  Dick. 

"  And  when  you  wish  to  spend  a  winter  in  Washing- 
ton you  must  all  be  at  home  with  me  at  Cedarwood," 
added  Drusilla. 

M  Agreed !  agreed  ! "  said  General  Lyon,  Anna  and  Dick 
in  a  breath. 

After  tea  that  evening  they  were  pleasantly  surprised 
by  a  visit  from  the  Seymours. 

.  It  seems  the  old  gentleman  had  got  news  of  Anna's 
arrival  and  had  come  over  with  his  wife  and  daughter, 
ostensibly  to  welcome  home  the  bride  and  bridegroom  ; 
but  really  too  glad  of  a  good  excuse  to  hear  Drusilla  sing 
and  play. 

They  spent  a  long  evening  ;  and  Drusilla  gratified  her 
old  admirer  with  some  very  choice  music,  in  which  she 
was  ably  assisted  by  Anna  and  Dick — Anna  singing 
second  and  Dick  bass. 

Early  in  the  next  week  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hammond  is- 
sued cards  for  a  reception  on  the  following  Monday.  And 
when  the  appointed  day  came  they  received  their  "  dear 
five  hundred  friends  "  and  had  a  crowded  house  with  the 
coming  and  going  of  visitors  from  ten  in  the  morning 
until  four  in  the  afternoon. 

And  this  reception  was  the  signal  for  a  round  of  enter- 
tainments given  to  the  newly  married  pair. 

The  first  of  a  series  was  a  ball  at  Colonel  Seymour's, 
which  was  duly  honored  by  all  the  family  from  Old  Lyon 
Hall,  including  Drusilla,  of  course. 


96  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Then  there  was  an  evening  party  with  music,  but  not 
dancing,  at  the  Reverend  Dr.  Barber's. 

Even  the  struggling  medical  practitioner  at  Saulsburg 
gave  a  tea- drinking. 

And  these  neighborhood  festivities  in  honor  of  the  bride 
were  kept  up  in  good  old-fashioned  country  style  for  a 
month  or  six  weeks. 

On  the  first  of  July,  Hammond  House  being  quite 
ready  for  occupation,  the  whole  family  from  Old  Lyon 
Hall  went  there  to  spend  a  few  weeks,  that  the  General 
might  indulge  in  his  favorite  pastime  of  trout^fishing. 

Here  they  remained  until  the  first  of  September,  when 
the  near  neighborhood  of  fresh  water  streams  being  con- 
sidered unwholesome,  they  returned  to  Old  Lyon  Hall. 

"  And  now,"  said  Drusilla,  when  they  were  once  more 
settled,  "  now  it  is  my  turn.  Our  next  migration  must  be 
to  Cedarwood." 

"  Are  you  so  anxious  to  leave  the  "  sweet  old  home  ?  " 
inquired  General  Lyon,  a  little  reproachfully. 

"  Oh,  no  indeed.  Only  when  we  do  go,  we  must  go  to 
Cedarwood." 

"Agreed,"  said  the  General,  "we  will  go  there  next 
winter." 

And  so  the  matter  was  settled ;  for  though  all  his 
young  people  were  grown  up  and  married,  yet  the  word 
of  the  veteran  soldier  was  law  in  the  family  circle. 

During  all  this  time  Drusilla  had  not  heard  from  Alex- 
ander or  even  expected  to  hear  from  him.  She  did  not 
grieve  after  him.  In  the  "  sweet  old  home,"  in  the  love 
of  her  dear  friends  and  in  the  caresses  of  her  darling  boy, 
she  was  almost  as  happy  as  it  is  given  a  mortal  to  be. 
But  though  she  did  not  mourn  over  his  absence,  neither 
did  she  lose  her  interest  in  his  welfare.  She  took  the 
principal  London  and  Paris  papers  upon  the  bare  pos- 
sibility of  gaining  intelligence  of  his  movements. 

Once  she  found  his  name  in  the  list  of  visitors  presented 
to  the  Queen  at  one  of  her  Majesty's  drawing-rooms  pub- 
lished in  the  "  Court  Journal." 

On  another  occasion  she  saw  him  announced  as  one  of 
the  speakers  at  a  public  meeting  at  Exeter  Hall,  noticed 
in  the  "  Morning  Chronicle." 

Again  he  was  named  as  the  owner  of  the  winning  horse 


THE  MAIL-BAG.  97 

at  certain  world- renowned  races,  reported  in  "  Bell's 
Life." 

That  was  all  she  knew  about  him. 

Every  week  Brasilia  received  mis-spelled  letters  from 
her  steward  or  housekeeper  at  Cedarwood. 

"  Mammy,"  chiefly  discoursed  of  cows  and  calves,  hens 
and  chickens,  and  ducks  and  geese. 

Mammy's  "  old  man"  treated  of  the  condition  of  the 
"  craps,"  the  health  of  the  "  hosses,"  oxen,  sheep,  pigs, 
and  so  forth. 

And  Brasilia  having  been  a  pupil  of  that  famous  agricul- 
turist, the  late  Mrs.  Judge  Lyon,  was  well  able  to  give 
instructions  to  her  farm-managers. 

Thus,  busily  and  happily  passed  the  days  of  the  little 
lady,  until  events  occurred  again  to  change  the  current 
of  her  life. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  MAIL-BAG. 

Newspaper  !  who  has  never  felt  the  pleasure  that  it  brings  ? 
It  always  tells  us  of  so  many  strange  and  wondrous  things. 
It  makes  us  weep  at  tales  of  woe,  it  fills  our  hearts  with  mirth, 
It  tells  us  of  the  price  of  stock,  and  what  produce  is  worth  ; 
And  when  and  where,  and  why,  and  how  strange  things  occur 

on  earth. 
Has  war's  loud  clarion  called  to  arms  ?    Has  lightning  struck  a. 

tree? 

Has  Jenkins  broke  his  leg  ?    Or  has  there  been  a  storm  at  sea  ? 
Has  the  sea-serpent  shown  his  head  ?    A  comet's  tail  been  seen  ? 
Or  has  some  heiress  with  her  groom  gone  off  to  Gretna  Green  ? 
All  this  and  many  marvels  more  you  from  this  sheet  may  glean.. 

— J.  T.  WATSON. 

THE  autumn  passed  away  as  pleasantly  as  the  summer. 

The  time  drew  near  when  the  family  from  Old  Lyon 
Hall  were  to  go  to  Washington  for  the  season. 

Brasilia  wrote  to  her  housekeeper  and  steward  at  Cedar- 
wood,  giving  them  full  instructions  to  prepare  the  cottage 
for  the  reception  of  herself  and  friends,  and  she  enclosed 
an  order  on  her  banker  for  the  necessary  funds. 

In  due  tune  she  received  a  communication  from  mam* 
7 


98  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

my  informing  her  that  all  things  were  now  ready  for  the 
party. 

Then  she  consulted  her  relatives,  and  together  they 
fixed  upon  a  early  day  in  January  for  the  migration  of 
the  family.  The  General  did  not  wish  to  move  before 
that  time,  as  he  always  preferred  to  spend  his  Christmas 
and  New  Year's  holidays  at  Old  Lyon  Hall. 

Drusilla  wrote  again,  and  told  her  servants  on  what 
day  to  expect  herself  and  her  party. 

But  a  very  severe  fall  of  snow,  coming  about  the  first 
of  January,  blocked  up  the  country  roads,  impeded  travel 
and  delayed  their  journey,  and  also  kept  back  the  mails, 
so  that  for  many  days  after  the  one  appointed  for  their 
removal,  the  family  remained  at  Old  Lyon  Hall,  cut  off 
from  communication  with  the  rest  of  the  world. 

When  at  last  there  came  a  change  of  weather,  and  the 
snow  melted  and  sunk  into  the  earth,  or  was  exhaled  into 
the  air,  and  the  roads  though  muddy  were  passable,  a 
messenger  was  sent  to  the  post-office  at  Saulsburg  to  fetch 
the  letters  and  papers. 

He  returned  in  the  afternoon  with  a  mail-bag  well  stuffed 
He  brought  it  into  the  small  parlor,  where  the  domestic 
circle  was  gathered. 

Only  those  who  have  been  under  like  circumstances 
long  debarred  from  news,  can  realize  the  avidity  with 
which  that  bag  was  seized  and  unlocked,  and  its  contents 
turned  out  upon  the  center  table  around  which  the  whole 
family  party  immediately  clustered. 

There  were  several  unimportant  letters  for  everybody, 
which  were,  however,  read  with  the  greatest  interest  by 
these  weather-bound  recluses. 

And  there  was  one  which  immediately  fixed  Drusilla's 
attention.  It  was  from  Cedarwood,  and  dated  a  few  days 
back.  Mammy  was  the  writer,  and  after  dilating  upon 
the  complete  readiness  of  the  cottage  to  receive  the  ex- 
pected company,  she  wrote. 

"  And  so  we  shall  be  a  looking  out  for  you  on  the  fifth, 
ma'am.  And  now,  I  don't  no  as  there's  enny  dainger, 
but  before  you  brings  yung  Marster  Lennud  inter  this 
enfected  nayberhood,  I  deems  it  my  duty  to  tell  you  as 
how  the  millignant  skarlet  fever  is  a  ragin'  here,  and  a 


THE  MAIL-BAG.  99 

karryin'  off  duzzins.  All  the  childun  at  the  Drovur's 
Rest  have  got  it ;  and  likewise  them  that  lives  right  across 
the  road,  opperside  the  gate  as  goes  inter  our  place.  But 
tho'  I  deems  it  my  duty  for  to  tell  you  of  this,  I  doo  not  no 
as  there  is  enny  danger,  as  in  coorse  yung  Marster  Lennud 
woudent  be  going  aiming  them." 

Danger  ?  Drusilla  grew  sick  and  turned  pale  at  the 
very  thought. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  dear  ?  "  inquired  General  Lyon, 
looking  up  from  his  paper,  and  noticing  her  disturbance. 

She  silently  handed  him  the  letter.  He  read  it  atten- 
tively, and  then  looking  over  his  spectacles,  said  : 

"  Of  course,  then,  we  must  not  think  of  going.  Scarlet 
fever !  bless  my  life  and  soul !  Let  us  stay  where  we  are." 

"  What  is  it,  dear  grandpa  ? "  inquired  Anna,  looking 
up  from  her  letter,  while  Dick  laid  down  his  paper  to  listen. 

"  Scarlet  fever,  my  love,  raging  around  Cedarwood, 
and  slaying  as  many  as  King  Herod  himself.  Of  course, 
we  can't  think  of  such  a  thing  as  going  there.  What,  ex- 
pose little  Leonard  to  such  an  infection  ?  Suppose  he  was 
to  catch  the  fever  ?  and — the  very  idea  makes  me  shud- 
der !  We'll  stay  home ;  we'll  stay  home,  my  children ! " 
said  the  old  man,  emphatically,  settling  himself  once 
more  to  his  newspaper. 

And,  indeed,  he  was  not  sorry  to  have  a  good  excuse 
for  relinquishing  the  journey  to  Washington,  which  at 
this  inclement  season  of  the  year  could  have  no  attraction 
for  him. 

"  But  if  the  ladies  wish  to  go  to  the  city,  we  can  take 
apartments  at  one  of  the  hotels,"  suggested  Dick. 

General  Lyon  looked  uneasy.  He  did  not  wish  to  go  to 
Washington  on  any  terms  in  such  bad  weather.  He  would 
have  gone  to  Cedarwood,  only  to  keep  his  word  with  Dru- 
silla ;  but  missing  that,  he  did  not  want  to  go  to  a  hotel. 
And  now  he  was  afraid  of  being  outvoted. 

Anna,  however,  came  to  his  relief. 

"Take  apartments?  Xo,  I  thank  you,  Dick!  We 
would  all  like  to  go  to  Cedarwood  and  see  Drusilla's 
*  pretty  little  wild- wood  home'  so  near  the  city  but,  if 
we  cannot  go  there,  we  will  not  pen  ourselves  up  in  a 
crowded  hotel  or  boarding-house." 


100  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE, 

"  No ;  that  we  won't ! "  put  in  the  General. 

«  And  I'm  sure  Drusilla  thinks  with  us,"  added  Anna. 

"  Indeed  I  do,"  acknowledged  Drusa. 

"  So  you  see  you  are  outvoted,  my  dear  boy,"  chuckled 
the  General. 

"  Oh,  as  to  myself,"  said  Dick,  u  I  know  when  I'm  well 
off,  and  I  had  a  great  deal  rather  stay  here.  It  was  for 
the  ladies'  sake  I  spoke." 

«  Then  here  we  stay  for  the  present,  my  children." 

"  And  so  I  must  write  and  tell  my  housekeeper  that  she 
must  cover  up  the  furniture  and  close  the  rooms  for  the 
winter,  as  we  are  not  going  to  Washington  this  season. 
But,  my  dear  uncle,  I  hope  we  shall  go  early  in  the 
spring." 

"  We  shall  go  on  the  very  first  favorable  opportunity, 
my  dear,  you  may  rely  on  that,"  answered  the  veteran. 

And  then  the  sight  of  Brasilia's  unopened  packet  of 
foreign  letters  suggested  a  plan  that  he  immediately  pro- 
posed. 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  what,  my  dears,"  he  said,  "  we  have 
none  of  us  seen  Europe  yet.  Anna  and  Dick  were  to  have 
gone  there  for  a  wedding  tour,  but  they  would  not  go  so 
far  away  from  the  old  man." 

"  We  should  not  have  enjoyed  the  trip,  dear  grandpa, 
if  you  had  not  been  with  us.  Neither  I  nor  Dick  cared 
to  go  to  Europe  until  we  could  all  go  together." 

"  Then,  please  Providence,  we  will  go  all  together  next 
spring,"  said  the  General,  looking  around  upon  his  young 
people.  "  What  do  you  say,  Anna  ?  " 

"  We  shall  both  be  delighted,"  answered  Anna  for  her- 
self and  her  husband,  who  immediately  endorsed  her  re- 
ply- 

"  And  you,  Drusilla,  shall  you  like  to  go  to  Europe  ?  " 
inquired  the  General. 

"  Of  all  things !  I  have  so  long  wished  to  see  the  old 
historical  world ! "  she  answered,  pausing  in  her  work  of 
opening  her  foreign  packet. 

And  then,  for  a  little  while,  sitting  around  the  table, 
they  were  all  engaged  in  looking  over  the  newspapers,  each 
occasionally  reading  aloud  to  the  others,  who  suspended 
their  own  employment  to  hear  any  little  item  of  news 
supposed  to  be  inte  resting. 


THE  MAIL-BAG.  101 

u  I  declare  there  is  nothing  in  our  papers.  Anything 
in  yours,  dear  ? "  inquired  Anna  of  Drusilla,  who  had 
been  the  only  silent  reader  of  the  party. 

"  Not  much  of  interest  to  us,  over  here.  We  do  not 
care  about  the  doings  in  Parliament,  or  the  trials  at  the- 
Old  Bailey,  or  the  meetings  at  Exeter  Hall,  or  the  murders 
in  Bermondsey,  or  even  about  the  movements  of  royalty 
and  nobility." 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  do  care  about  that  last  item.  We  are 
intensely  democratic  and  republican  here,  and  so  of  course 
we  are  breathlessly  anxious  to  know  where  '  Majesty,' 
took  an  airing,  what  '  Royal  Highness '  wore  to  the  opera, 
and  whom  '  Grace '  entertained  at  dinner !  "  laughed  Anna. 

"  Then  read  for  yourself,  my  dear,"  answered  Drusilla* 
passing  the  "  Times." 

u  And  to  yourself  also,  my  child.  We  are  not  interested 
in  those  high  themes,"  added  the  General,  who  was  deep 
in  a  senatorial  debate. 

And  Anna  did  read  to  herself  for  some  time,  but  at. 
length  she  exclaimed : 

"  Well,  here  is  an  item  in  which  I  think  you  will  be 
interested,  all  of  you." 

Drusilla  started  and  looked  up  anxiously.  She  thought 
that  Anna  had  come  upon  some  news  of  Alexander,  and 
she  wondered  how  she  herself  could  have  overlooked  such, 
a  matter. 

Even  the  General  laid  down  his  paper  to  listen. 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  dear  ?  "  inquired  Dick. 

Anna  read : 

"  '  The  Barony  of  Killchrichtoun,  so  long  in  abeyance,  has  been 
claimed  by  a  young  American  gentleman  in  right  of  his  mother. 
The  barony,  it  will  be  remembered,  is  not  a  male  feoff  only  ;  but, 
failing  male  heirs,  descends  in  the  female  line.  The  right  of  the 
new  claimant  is  said  to  be  indisputable.  He  is  the  great  great 
grandson  and  only  living  descendant  of  George-Duncan-Bertie- 
Bruce,  the  tenth  and  last  Baron  of  Killchrichtoun.'  " 

"  Oh,  I  saw  that?  said  Drusilla,  with  a  look  of  disap- 
pointment. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  inquired  General  Lyon,  indifferently. 

"  Does  not  say,"  answered  the  reader. 

"  Some  poor  devil  of  an  adventurer  making  a  donkey 
of  himself,  I  suppose,"  said  Dick. 


102  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Come,  I  won't  read  you  any  more  sensational  news  if 
that  is  the  way  you  treat  it,"  said  Anna. 

And  the  subject  was  dropped  and  forgotten. 

The  family  circle  then  separated,  each  retiring  to  his 
or  her  own  room,  to  fill  up  the  time  till  the  dinner  hour 
with  answering  letters. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

OLD    AND    NEW. 

One  in  stories  of  the  past, 

One  in  glories  still  to  last, 

One  in  speech  and  one  in  face, 

One  in  honest  pride  of  race, 

One  in  faith  and  hope  and  grace.— M.  F.  TURNER. 

w  LET  us  go  very  early  in  the  spring.  If  we  stop  here 
until  the  season  begins  to  put  forth  all  its  beauty,  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  leave  this  *  sweet  old  home,'  as  Drusa 
calls  it." 

Thus  spoke  General  Lyon  one  morning  in  March,  when 
the  family  were  assembled  at  breakfast,  discussing  the 
subject  of  their  trip  to  Europe. 

"  Then  as  this  is  the  fifteenth,  and  the  spring  is  held  to 
commence  about  the  twenty-first,  we  had  better  begin  to 
see  about  our  voyage  at  once.  Do  you  wish  to  start  as 
early  as  the  first  of  April  ?  "  inquired  Dick. 

"  No ;  that  plan  would  give  us  but  two  weeks  to  get 
ready  in,  and  it  is  necessary  to  secure  berths  at  least  one 
month  in  advance.  We  shall  not  go  before  the  middle  of 
April.  Then,  also,  we  shall  be  sure  that  the  equinoctial 
storms  are  quite  over,  to  their  very  latest  reverberation." 

M  Well,  in  any  case,  we  had  better  fix  upon  our  line  of 
steamers,  and  write  to  the  agent  at  once  to  take  state- 
rooms," suggested  Anna. 

"  Certainly,"  agreed  the  General. 

And  after  a  little  more  discussion  of  the  merits  of  rival 
lines  and  individual  steamers,  their  ship  was  selected,  and 
"Dick  was  authorized  to  write  and  secure  state-rooms,  and 
to  be  sure  to  get  them  amid-ships. 


OLD  AND  NEW.  103 

Dick  wrote,  and  in  due  course  of  mail  he  received  the 
agent's  answer,  saying  that  his  party  could  have  one  state- 
room amid-ships  and  two  near  the  bows. 

Dick  showed  this  letter  to  the  General,  and  the  two  in. 
consultation  decided  that  the  choice  state-room  should  be 
assigned  to  Drusilla  and  her  child,  while  the  other 
members  of  the  party  should  take  the  less  desirable 
berths. 

"  But  we  must  say  nothing  to  her  about  it,  or  she  may 
refuse  to  make  herself  and  boy  comfortable  at  our  ex- 
pense, and  insist  upon  a  different  arrangement,"  said  the 
General. 

So  Dick  wrote  again  to  the  agent,  enclosing  a  draft  upon 
a  New  York  banker  to  pay  for  the  state-rooms. 

And  lively  preparations  were  commenced  for  the  voy- 
age. 

Drusilla,  who  never  hi  her  life  had  been  a  hundred, 
miles  from  home,  was  delighted  with  the  prospect  of 
crossing  the  ocean  and  traveling  in  distant  countries. 

Not  only  was  her  mind  all  alert  with  the  anticipation 
of  intellectual  pleasures,  but  her  heart  was  cheered  with 
the  hope  of  being  nearer  to  Alexander. 

It  was  even  possible  that  she  might  see  him,  or  that 
he  might  see  her  little  Leonard.  And  so  Drusilla  went 
enthusiastically  to  work  with  her  preparations. 

But  the  whole  party  made  the  usual  mistake  of  inex-. 
perienced  voyagers — they  encumbered  themselves  with 
an  unnecessary  amount  of  luggage. 

As  if  they  were  going  beyond  the  bounds  of  civilization 
to  live  forever  away  from  the  possibility  of  purchasing 
the  comforts  or  even  the  necessaries  of  life,  they  packed 
clothing  by  the  twelve  dozens,  and  filled  many  great 
trunks. 

As  if  the  steamer  had  no  store-room  or  pantry,  they 
took  hampers  of  canned  meats  and  fruits  and  jars  of 
jellies  and  preserves. 

And  as  if  there  were  no  surgeon  in  the  staff  of  officers, 
they  took  a  "  doctor's  book"  and  a  "  physic  box,"  to  say 
nothing  of  boxes  of  lemons,  bottles  of  peppermint  cordial 
and  cases  of  soda  powders  as  preventives  of  sea-sickness, 
or  of  books,  magazines,  checkers,  chessmen,  and  musical 
instruments  as  preventives  of  ennui. 


104  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Thus  the  party  of  ssven  had  twenty-one  large  trunks. 

They  took  but  two  servants — Pina  to  nurse  little 
Leonard  and  to  wait  on  Drusilla  and  Anna  ;  and  young 
Jacob  to  attend  upon  the  General  and  Dick. 

Old  Jacob,  Marcy  and  Matty  were  to  be  left  in  charge 
of  Old  Lyon  Hall.  Leo  was  to  go  for  a  visit  to  his  parents 
at  Cedar  wood. 

All  things  being  ready,  the  party  of  voyagers  left  Old 
Lyon  Hall  on  the  seventh  of  April,  so  as  to  have  a  day  in 
Washington  and  a  few  days  in  New  York  before  the  sail- 
ing of  the  steamer  on  the  fifteenth. 

General  Lyon  had  many  friends  and  acquaintances 
either  permanently  or  temporarily  residing  in  Europe. 
To  add  to  the  number  of  these  he  had  procured  letters 
of  introduction  from  distinguished  people  in  America  to 
their  peers  in  the  old  world. 

It  was  a  very  pleasant  day  of  sunshine  and  showers  in 
the  capricious  month,  when  they  finally  commenced  their 
journey. 

They  traveled  from  Old  Lyon  Hall  to  the  Stormy  Pe- 
trel Landing  in  the  capacious  old  family  carriage. 

They  were  followed  by  two  wagons  taking  their  heavy 


At  this  steamboat  landing  they  took  the  Sea  Gull  for 
Washington,  where  they  all  arrived  in  good  health  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  next  day. 

According  to  previous  arrangement,  they  had  a  hack, 
and  leaving  their  luggage  at  the  railway  station,  went  out 
to  Cedarwood,  where  mammy  and  her  old  man  were  ex- 
pecting to  receive  them,  and  where  they  found  every- 
thing prepared  for  their  comfort. 

Rooms  were  aired,  beds  made  and  bright  little  wood- 
fires  kindled.  And  an  exquisite  early  supper  was  in 
progress. 

Mammy  received  her  mistress  and  mistress's  friends 
with  a  mixture  of  deference  and  dignity  in  her  manners 
that  was  quite  impressive. 

And  her  joy  over  the  fine  growth  and  beauty  of  her 
nurseling,  little  Leonard,  was  natural  and  delightful. 

The  meeting  also  between  Pina  and  Leo  and  their  par- 
ents was  very  pleasant  to  see. 


OLD  AND  NEW.  10& 

Our  party  had  reached  Cedarwood  at  the  most  beautiful 
hour  of  sunset. 

General  Lyon  and  Anna,  who  saw  the  place  now  for 
the  first  time  and  under  its  fairest  aspect,  were  delighted, 
with  the  cottage  and  its  surroundings. 

It  was  not  an  imposing  and  venerable  mansion,  over- 
shadowed by  mountains  and  forests,  like  Old  Lyon  Hall, 
but  it  was  a  pretty,  wildwood  home,  fresh,  bright,  fair, 
and  youthful.  And  Anna  was  in  ecstasies  over  it. 

But  the  sparkling  shower-gems  that  glittered  in  the 
rays  of  the  setting  sun,  from  every  leaf  and  flower  and 
blade  of  grass,  while  they  added  so  much  to  the  beauty 
of  the  scene,  made  it  a  little  too  damp  for  health. 

So  Drusilla  pressed  her  friends  to  go  into  the  house,, 
and  General  Lyon  seconded  her  motion,  and  drove  them 
in  before  him. 

"  This  is  all  very  pretty,  my  dears,"  he  said,  "  but  we 
don't  want  to  begin  our  voyage  with  bad  colds." 

So  they  went  into  the  little  drawing-room,  with  which 
you  are  so  well  acquainted,  the  lovely  little  drawing-room^ 
where  Drusilla  had  watched  out  so  many  weary  nights. 

A  cheerful  fire  was  burning  in  the  grate ;  and  early  spring 
flowers  were  blooming  in  the  vases ;  and  the  curtains, 
that  separated  it  from  the  little  dining-room  were  drawn, 
aside,  showing  the  snowy  damask,  shining  silver,  and 
Sevres  china,  of  a  well-set  supper- table. 

When  they  had  stood  before  the  fire  a  few  moments  to 
evaporate  the  slight  dampness  from  their  clothes  and  to 
look  around  upon  the  pretty  place,  the  servants  were- 
summoned  to  show  them  to  their  several  rooms. 

Drusilla,  attended  by  mammy,  carrying  little  Leonard, 
went  up  to  her  own  chamber. 

It  was  looking  very  fresh  and  bright,  pretty  and  attrac- 
tive, with  its  crimson  carpet  and  snowy  curtains  and  its 
cheerful  wood  fire. 

But  with  what  feelings  did  the  young  wife  and  mother 
enter  again  this  chamber,  so  filled  with  sweet  and  bitter 
memories  ? 

Certainly  with  some  sadness  at  the  thoughts  of  all  the- 
happiness  and  the  misery  she  had  felt  in  this  place.  But 
also  with  much  thankfulness,  that  she  and  her  child  had 
passed  through  the  fiery  trials  unscathed — had  com© 


106  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

forth  from  them  sound  in  body  and  mind  ;  and  were  now 
blessed  with  health  and  happiness  and  many  friends. 

She  sank  on  her  knees  for  a  moment  and  returned  sin- 
cere thanks  to  Divine  Providence.  And  then  she  arose 
and  made  a  few  necessary  changes  in  her  dress,  and  went 
below,  to  await  her  friends  in  the  drawing-room. 

They  soon  joined  her  there. 

And  then  the  supper,  prepared  with  mammy's  best 
skill,  was  placed  upon  the  table  and  the  party  sat  down 
with  good  appetites  to  enjoy  it. 

Afterwards  Drusilla  tried  the  tone  of  her  new  piano, 
the  one  that  had  been  ordered  and  sent  to  the  cottage  by 
her  agent  when  she  was  expecting  to  take  her  friends 
tiiere  to  spend  the  winter. 

She  found  it  out  of  tune  from  disuse,  and  so  gave  up 
the  attempt  to  bring  harmony  out  of  it,  for  that  evening. 

She  rang  and  brought  "  mammy  "  up  into  the  drawing- 
room  and  said : 

"  Mammy,  I  shall  write  to  my  agent  to  sent  a  man  out 
here  to  put  this  instrument  in  tune.  And  after  that  you 
must  make  a  fire  in  this  room  every  wet  day  and  you 
must  play  on  it." 

«  Play  on  the  fire,  ma'am  ! " 

«  No,  on  the  piano." 

M  On  the  planner  !  " 

«  Yes,  I  tell  you." 

«  Why  la,  ma'am,  I  couldn't  do  it !  It  ain't  likely  as  I 
'could !  I  don't  know  nothing  about  it !  I  couldn't  play  a 
tune,  not  no,  if  the  salvation  of  my  mortial  soul  depended 
on  to  it !  I  could  play  on  the  jewsharp,  if  that  would  do." 

Drusilla  smiled  and  said : 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  could  play  any  pieces  on  this  in- 
strument. But  I  tell  you  what  I  want  you  to  do.  Look 
here—" 

And  Drusilla  opened  the  piano  and  sat  down  before  it. 
And  mammy  followed  her  and  stood  watching  her  motions. 

«  See,  now ;  begin  here  at  this  left  hand  end  and  strike 
every  one  of  these  little  ivory  keys  in  turn,  just  as  I  do 
now,  one  after  the  other  till  you  get  up  here  to  the  right 
hand  end,  and  then  backwards  one  after  the  other  till  you 
get  back  to  the  left  hand  end  again.  And  then  do  the 
«ame  thing  with  the  black  keys.  You  can  do  that,  can't 


OLD  AND  NEW.  107 

you  ?  "  asked  Drusilla,  giving  a  practical  illustration  to  her 
words. 

"  Oh  yes,  ma'am,  I  can  do  that  well  enough,  and  I  think 
I  shall  like  it.  Let's  see,  now.  I'm  to  begin  at  the  end 
where  they  groans  and  roars  like  sinners  in  the  pit,  and 
I'm  to  end  at  the  end  where  they  whistles  and  chippers 
like  birds  in  the  bush." 

"  Yes  ;  that  is  what  you  are  to  do  for  five  or  ten  minutes 
every  day,  or  every  few  days,  as  you  please.  And  you  are 
to  light  a  fire  here  whenever  it  is  very  damp.  All  this  is 
to  keep  the  instrument  in  tune,  you  know." 

".  Yes,  ma'am,  I  think  I  shall  like  it.  I  know  I  shall  like 
it.  And  it's  easy  enough  !  "  said  mammy,  standing  by  her 
mistress  and  touching  the  keys.  "  La  !  what  will  my  old 
man  say,  when  he  finds  out  I  am  larnin'  music  on  the 
pianner,  in  my  ole  ages  of  life,  and  practysin'  every  day 
like  any  boarding-school  young  lady  !  Won't  he  be  took 
right  offen  his  feet  along  with  'stonishment  ?  " 

"  Very  likely.  And  now  that  will  do,  mammy.  I  know 
you  will  like  to  spend  as  much  time  as  possible  with  Pina* 
as  she  is  so  soon  to  leave  you,  so  good  night." 

"  Good  night,  ma'am.  Good  night,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men." 

When  mammy  had  left  the  room,  Anna  broke  out  into  a 
peal  of  silvery  laughter. 

"  Well,  upon  my  word,  Drusa,"  she  said,  "  I  never  should 
have  thought  of  your  device  for  keeping  a  piano  in  tune." 

"  Why  not  ?  It  is  an  obvious  one,  under  the  circum- 
stances." 

"  Yes ;  but  think  of  the  absurdity  of  having  mammy 
seated  at  the  piano,  thumping  upon  the  keys  every  day." 

"  She  will  not  thump.  And  there  is  no  absurdity. 
She  will  in  this  way  keep  the  instrument  in  tune,  and 
I  should  not  at  all  wonder  if  in  the  process  she  should 
teach  herself  to  play  by  ear.  She  will,  if  she  had  the 
ordinary  musical  talent  of  her  race,"  said  Drusilla. 

And  then  seeing  General  Lyon  was  actually  nodding, 
and  that  Dick  was  trying  to  smother  a  yawn,  she  lighted 
the  bedroom  candles. 

Anna  put  one  in  Dick's  hand,  and  waked  up  the  General. 

And  the  party  bade  each  other  good -night,  and  went  to 
their  several  rooms. 


108  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

The  earliest  hours  next  day  were  spent  in  the  business 
that  brought  Drusilla  to  Cedarwood — the  inspection  of  her 
little  estate. 

General  Lyon,  who  had  spent  the  best  part  of  his  long 
life  in  agricultural  pursuits,  was  well  fitted  to  judge  cor- 
rectly of  such  matters.  And  he  pronounced  everything 
connected  with  the  farm  to  be  very  well  ordered,  and  he 
complimented  "  mammy  "  and  her  "  old  man  "  on  the  skill 
and  fidelity  with  which  they  had  administered  affairs. 

By  ten  o'clock,  the  travelers  having  settled  the  busi- 
ness that  brought  them  to  Cedarwood,  left  for  Washington 
to  meet  the  mid-day  train  for  New  York,  where  they  ar- 
rived at  eleven  o'clock  at  night. 

They  went  to  one  of  the  up- town  hotels,  where  they  suc- 
ceeded in  procuring  good  rooms  on  the  second  floor.  After 
a  late  but  light  supper,  they  retired  to  rest,  and,  fatigued 
b>  their  long  ride,  slept  soundly. 

The  next  morning,  Drusilla  looked  for  the  first  time 
upon  the  great  American  seaport,  as  seen  from  fche  win- 
dows of  her  room  at  the  hotel. 

From  her  point  of  view,  she  expected  to  see  a  thronged 
thoroughfare.  She  was  agreeably  disappointed,  for  she 
looked  down  upon  a  broad,  clean,  shady  street,  with  a  park 
on  the  opposite  side,  for  the  house  was  a  quiet  up-town 
one. 

While  she  stood  at  the  window,  General  Lyon  came  to 
the  door  to  take  her  down  to  breakfast,  in  the  public  room, 
where  at  one  of  the  little  tables  she  found  Anna  and  Dick 
already-seated,  and  waiting  for  her. 

After  the  usual  greetings  : 

M  This  is  the  tenth,"  said  Anna ;  "  we  have  six  days  to 
see  all  that  we  wish  to  see  hi  New  York,  and  so  we  must 
be  busy,  Drusa." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Drusilla. 

"  But  first  of  all,  we  must  go  and  take  a  look  at  our 
steamer.  I  see  by  this  morning's  paper  that  she  got  into 
port  late  last  night,"  said  the  General. 

"  You  and  I  can  go  and  do  that,  sir.  The  ladies  need 
not  accompany  us  unless  they  wish,"  said  Dick. 

"  Oh,  but  we  do  wish,"  put  in  Anna.  "  I  was  never  in- 
side of  an  ocean-steamer  hi  my  life.  Were  you,  Drusilla  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not." 


OLD  AND  NEW.  109 

"  And  wouldn't  you  like  to  go  and  take  a  look  at  the 
floating  home  in  which  we  are  to  live  for  about  two  weeks  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  should,  unless " 

«  Unless  what  ?  " 

"  Our  company  should  inconvience  uncle  or  Dick." 

"It  will  not  inconvenience  me  in  the  slightest  degree. 
On  the  contrary  it  will  give  me  pleasure.  And — it  don't 
matter  about  Dick,"  said  the  General. 

"  Then  we'll  go,"  concluded  Anna,  rising  from  the  table. 

"  And  you  had  better  get  ready  at  once,  young  ladies, 
as  we  have  a  great  deal-do-to-day  after  seeing  the  ship, 
advised  the  General. 

"And  Drusilla,  if  I  were  in  your  place,  I  would  let 
Pina  take  little  Lenny  across  the  street  into  the  park. 
Jacob  can  go  along  to  look  after  them  both.  So  they  will 
be  quite  safe,"  counseled  Anna. 

Drusilla  nodded  and  smiled  assent. 

And  they  went  up  stairs  to  put  on  their  bonnets,  and 
soon  came  down  prepared  for  the  drive. 

The  General  and  Dick  were  waiting  in  the  hall,  and 
the  hired  carriage  was  at  the  door. 

"  Only  let  me  see  little  Lenny  and  his  attendants  safe 
in  the  park  first,  and  then  I  will  join  you,"  said  Drusilla, 
who  was  leading  in  her  hand  her  little  boy  ;  who  now,  be- 
ing seventeen  months  old,  could  walk  and  talk  quite  pret- 
tily. 

"  It  is  only  across  the  street.  It  will  not  take  us  two 
minutes,"  added  Anna. 

"  And  I  am  so  much  afraid  of  his  being  run  over  by  car- 
riages," pleaded  the  young  mother. 

"  Oh,  go,  go  !  "  laughed  the  General. 

And  Drusilla  and  Anna  saw  their  little  charge  safely 
across  the  street  and  within  the  enclosure  of  the  green 
and  shaded  park  ;  where,  with  many  warnings  and  instruc- 
tions to  his  attendants,  they  left  him  with  Pina  for  his 
bearer  and  Jacob  for  his  body-guard. 

Then  they  returned  and  joined  their  own  protectors. 

"  See  how  patiently  he  is  waiting  for  us  !  Had  ever  any 
one  such  a  dear,  indulgent  old  uncle  as  I  have  ? "  said 
Drusilla,  fondly  regarding  the  old  man  as  she  approached. 

In  two  more  minutes  they  were  all  in  the  carriage,  and 
rolling  down  the  avenue  towards  Broadway. 


HO  1'HE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

They  were  nearly  an  hour  in  reaching  their  ship,  which, 
with  her  passengers  and  freight  all  discharged,  was  lying 
quietly  at  her  pier. 

Led  on  by  Dick,  pressing  through  crowds  of  people 
"and  climbing  over  piles  of  merchandise,  and  passing  over 
decks  of  other  boats,  our  party  at  last  boarded  their  steam- 
er, the  "  Hurona." 

Picking  his  way  among  coils  of  ropes  and  chains,  and 
folds  of  canvas  and  heaps  of  coal,  Dick  went  up  to  an 
officer  on  duty  on  the  deck,  and  showing  his  tickets  re- 
quested to  see  the  rooms  engaged  by  his  party. 

The  officer  politely  acquiesced,  called  a  steward,  and 
directed  him  to  show  the  gentleman  and  his  friends  to 
the  first  cabin. 

The  man  obeyed,  and  led  our  party  down  to  the  ele- 
gantly furnished  floating  drawing-room  of  the  steamer. 

"  This  is  much  finer  than  anything  we  ever  saw  on  our 
rivers  and  bays,"  said  Anna,  as  she  glanced  around  upon 
the  velvet  carpets,  satin  damask  curtains,  heavily  gilded 
cornices,  cheval  mirrors,  and  all  the  showy  appointments 
t)f  the  place. 

"This  is  number  three,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  the 
steward,  opening  the  ground  glass  gilded  door  of  a  state- 
room on  their  right. 

"  Ah !  yes ;  this  is  the  place  in  which  you  will  have  to 
go  to  housekeeping  for  two  weeks,"  said  the  General, 
turning  with  a  smile  to  Drusilla. 

It  was  a  clean,  cozy  den,  with  an  upper  and  a  lower 
berth,  and  a  sofa,  wash-stand,  shelves  and  drawers,  and 
all  that  was  required  for  convenience. 

"  Do  you  think  you  will  be  comfortable  here  ?  "  in- 
quired the  General. 

"  I  shall  be  very  comfortable.  This  is  the  largest  state- 
room I  ever  saw,"  said  Drusilla,  glancing  around  approv- 
ingly, although  she  was  too  inexperienced  to  know  that 
this  was  indeed  one  of  the  very  best  positions  in  the  ship. 

"And  now  we  will  see  ours,"  said  Dick. 

And  the  steward  led  the  party  far  away  up  to  the  bows 
of  the  steamer,  where  he  showed  them  two  large,  three- 
"cornered  state-rooms,  directly  opposite  each  other. 

Though  their  position  was  execrable,  they  were  even 


OLD  AND  NEW.  HI 

much  larger  and  much  better  furnished  than  was  Dru- 
silla's. 

She  noticed  their  ample  size  and  many  conveniences, 
and  exclaimed ; 

"  I  am  so  glad  that  you  have  so  much  space  and  so 
many  little  drawers  and  cupboards  to  put  away  your 
things,  and  that  you  are  so  near  each  other,  too." 

And  in  her  heart  she  wished  that  she  could  be  near 
them  also ;  for  she  could  not  know  that  they  had  the 
worst  situation  while  she  had  the  best,  or  that  they 
would  be  harrassed  by  every  motion  of  the  ship,  while 
she  would  scarcely  feel  it  at  all. 

Dick  and  Anna  smiled  and  enjoyed  her  "bliss  of  igno- 
rance." 

Having  thus  inspected  their  future  quarters,  they  left 
the  steamer  and  returned  to  the  hotel. 

Drusilla  had  been  feeling  a  little  secret  anxiety  on  the 
subject  of  her  boy. 

But  Master  Lenny  had  neither  been  stolen,  run  over, 
choked,  bumped,  or  injured  in  any  other  of  the  ways  she 
had  feared  for  him.  He  was  quite  safe,  and  full  of  a  sub- 
ject which  he  called  "  moodick  "  and  "  yed  toat ;  "  and 
which  Drusa  interpreted  to  mean  a  brass  band  attached  to 
a  marine  corps  that  had  been  playing  in  the  park  to  Len 
ny's  great  delight. 

That  evening  our  party  went  to  the  opera.  The  next 
day  they  visited  the  public  institutions  on  the  islands  in 
East  River. 

And  thus  with  sight-seeing  or  shopping  all  day  long, 
and  going  to  some  place  of  amusement  in  the  evening, 
they  passed  the  time  until  Saturday. 

On  that  morning,  at  about  ten  o'clock,  they  embarked 
on  board  the  Hurona,  and  took  up  their  quarters  in  the 
state-rooms  already  described. 

The  Hurona  sailed  at  twelve  noon. 

And  after  a  voyage  of  ten  days,  which  was  so  calm, 
pleasant  and  uneventful  as  to  leave  no  incident  worth 
recording,  the  Hurona  reached  the  shores  of  the  Old 
World. 


112  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE, 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


Britain  !  America  !  Mother  and  child, 
Be  heartily,  happily,  reconciled. 

Look  to  the  world  around  ; 
Stricken  by  frenzy,  with  guilt  defiled, 
A  storm-tossed  ship  in  the  surges  wild, 

Soon  to  be  wrecked  and  drowned  I 

Mother  and  daughter  against  the  world. 
Under  your  peaceful  flags  unfurled, 

Rights  may  rally  at  length  ; 
While  Earth's"  hurricane,  inwardly  curled 
Spent  with  ruin  of  wrongs  down-hurled 

Weakens  and  wastes  its  strength. — M.  P.  T. 

To  see  for  the  first  time  the  shores  of  the  old  world ! 
It  is  indeed  like  coining  to  another  world  !  like  entering 
into  another  life ! 

Have  we  died  ?  "Was  the  vast  sheet  of  water  we  passed 
the  River  of  Death  ?  And  is  the  land  we  see  before  us 
the  abode  of  departed  spirits  ?  If  so,  is  it  Hades,  or 
Elysium?  It  looks  more  like  Elysium! 

So  mused  Drusilla  as  «he  stood  dreamily  leaning  over 
the  bulwarks  of  the  Hurona,  and  gazing  on  the  lovely 
shores  of  the  Emerald  Isle,  all  glittering  in  the  beams  of 
the  rising  sun,  as  the  ship  approached  the  beautiful  Cove 
of  Cork. 

She  had  risen  very  early  and  come  up  on  deck  alone 
to  get  a  quiet  first  view  of  the  land.  All  was  bustle 
around  her,  for  the  ship  was  preparing  to  lay  to  for  the 
purpose  of  landing  the  passengers  for  Ireland.  The  tiny 
steamboat  from  the  shore  was  already  puffing  and  blow- 
ing its  way  out  to  the  ocean  leviathan  to  take  them  off. 

Men,  women  and  children,  servants,  porters  and  bag- 
gage, began  to  throng  up  from  below. 

But  Drusilla,  plunged  in  a  dream  of  the  past,  was 
almost  unconscious  of  the  confusion  around  her. 

"  Elysium  !  for  certainly  it  is  peopled  with  the  spirits 
of  departed  heroes  and  sages !  "  she  murmured  to  her- 


ARRIVAL.  113 

self  as  the  rivers  of  history  and  tradition  rolled  through, 
her  memory. 

A  caressing  hand  was  laid  upon  her  shoulder  and  a 
kind  voice  said  in  her  ear  : 

"  Good-morning,  my  child  !  Well,  you  see  before  you 
*  Hibernia,'  '  Erin,'  '  Ireland,'  the  '  ould  counthry ! '  Now, 
what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  uncle,  it  is  a  lovely  land !  Who  can  look  upon 
it  and  not  love  it  ?  And,  oh !  what  an  experience  to 
look  upon  it  for  the  first  time  !  It  is  as  if  some  beauti- 
ful creation  of  imagination  was  actually  realized  to  the 
senses !  To  look  upon  her  shores  and  think  of  her  his- 
tory, her  legends  and  her  poetry !  to  almost  see  the 
shades  of  her  dead  heroes,  sages  and  minstrels ! "  said 
Drusilla,  enthusiastically. 

"Well,  my  dear,  I  dare  say  ardent  young  strangers 
like  you  feel  all  these  things  and  see  all  these  ghosts. 
But  I  don't  suppose  the  people  who  live  in  the  land,  or 
the  mariners  that  frequent  the  cove,  ever  do.  Such  is 
the  effect  of  novelty  in  your  case,  and  of  habit  in  theirs." 

"  But  can  any  length  of  habit  blind  one  to  such  beauty 
as  this  ?  Oh,  look  !  was  ever  such  brilliant  green  herbage 
spread  over  the  earth,  or  such  heavenly  blue  sky  above  it, 
or  such  soft  white  clouds  sailing  over  it  ?  See  those  lovely, 
billowy  hills  !  as  the  cloud-shadows  pass  over  them  they 
seem  to  rise  and  fall,  like  the  waves  of  the  ocean,  only 
more  gently !  It  reminds  of  something  Tennyson  said, 
What  was  it?  Oh 

'  The  hills  are  shadows  and  they  flow 
From  form  to  form  and  nothing  stands  ; 
They  melt  like  mists,  the  solid  lands, 

Like  clouds  they  shape  themselves  and  go.' 

He  was  speaking  geologically  of  the  changes  wrought  by 
centuries ;  but  here  the  beautiful  green  sunlit  or  cloud- 
shaded  hills  do  seem  every  moment  to  ,  flow  from  form  to 
form,' '  to  melt  like  mists,' '  like  clouds  to  shape  themselves 
and  go.'" 

"  You  are  a  dreamer,  little  Drusa  !  " 

"  It  does  seem  like  a  dream.  I  should  not  be  the  least 
surprised  to  wake  up  and  find  myself — where  ? — anywhere 
at  all  in  my  past  life  !  In  my  little  corner  of  the  house- 
keeper's room  in  the  Chief- Justice's  dwelling ;  in  the  loll- 


114  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

ing  chair  of  the  little  drawing-room  at  Cedarwood  waiting 
for  Alick  to  come  back  ;  or  at  dear  old  Lyon  Hall  with  little 
Lenny  trying  to  pull  my  eyes  open.  Life  seems  often  very 
like  a  dream." 

"  And  always  in  any  great  change  of  scene  or  circum- 
stances." 

u  And  most  of  all  in  coming  to  an  old,  historical  country 
like  this,  that  we  have  always  known  in  imagination,  and 
never  in  reality.  But  look,  uncle !  do  not  let  us  lose  the 
features  of  this  sweet  scene  !  It  will  be  a  picture  in  our 
mind's  eye  for  many  coming  years.  See,  away  there  on 
the  horizon,  crowning  the  most  distant  of  the  visible  hills, 
a  cluster  of  old,  gray  ruins — the  remains  of  some  medieval 
castle  or  monastery !  And  look  a  little  further  down.  See 
the  mossy  huts,  dotted  about  at  long  intervals,  half  hidden 
in  dells  and  thickets,  and  under  great  trees  ;  and  nearer 
still,  the  town  with  its  glittering  spires  and  its  forest  of 
shipping ! " 

«  Yes,  my  dear,  the  ninth  century  and  the  nineteenth  are 
brought  together  in  this  view !  " 

Here  the  old  man  felt  a  pair  of  tenacious  little  claws 
fasten  themselves  upon  his  leg,  and  a  shrill,  tiny  voice 
sing  out : 

u  Untie  Danpa !     Untie  Danpa  Dennel !  " 

And,  turning,  he  saw  and  lifted  up  little  Lenny. 

Little  Lenny's  language  needs  translating.  He  called 
or  tried  to  call  every  one  around  him  by  the  names  he 
heard  them  call  each  other.  Thus,  with  him,  Drusilla  was 
called  "  Doosil ;  "  Anna.  «  Nannan  ; "  Dick,  "  Bit ; "  while 
General  Lyon,  who  was  variously  called  uncle,  grandpa, 
or  General,  was  "  Untie  Danpa  u  or  even  Untie  M  Danpa 
Deneral." 

"  Well,  my  little  man,  what  do  you  want  ? "  inquired 
the  General,  smiling  on  the  child. 

"  Hee,  hee ! "  cried  Lenny,  pointing  to  the  shore. 
«  Mate  Doosil  tate  Lenny  home." 

«  Make  Drusil  *  take  Lenny  home  ? '  Why  where  is 
home  ?  " 

u  Dere,  dere !     Mate  Doosil  tate  Lenny  home ! " 

«  That's  not  home  !  " 

«  Yet  tid  too !    Mate  Doosil  tate  Lenny  home,  dit 
ute\" 


ARRIVAL.  115 

"  You  peremptory  little  despot !  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  uncle,  you  know  ever  since  Lenny  lost  sight  of 
land,  he  has  been  abroad ;  now  he  sees  it  again,  he  thinks 
it  is  home ! "  said  Drusilla,  smiling  on  the  child.  Little 
Leonard,  with  his  father's  features  inherited  much  of 
his  father's  self-will ;  and  so  he  soon  became  both  obstrep- 
erous and  vociferous  in  his  demands  to  be  taken  home. 

"Mamma  will  take  Lenny  over  there  presently,"  said 
Drusilla  soothingly,  as  she  took  the  child  in  her  arms. 

"  You  know,  uncle,  our  steamer  will  lie  here  until  this 
afternoon,  and  we  shall  have  time  to  go  on  shore  for  an 
hour  or  so,"  she  added  turning  to  the  veteran. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  Anna  and  Dick  would  like  it.  I  know 
I  should.  And — ah ;  here  they  come  now !  "  said  the 
General,  as  his  niece  and  nephew  appeared  upon  the  deck. 

"  What  a  charming  view !  "  exclaimed  Anna. 

"  It  is  like  Fairyland  !  "  cried  Dick. 

«  Come,  come !  none  of  that  now  you  know !  We've 
had  enough  of  it !  Here's  Drusa  been  singing  its  praises 
ever  since  I  came  to  her  side.  And  there,  thank  good- 
ness, there's  the  breakfast  bell !  Come  down  now,  and 
praise  the  company's  cook  !  Two  weeks'  trial  has  proved 
him  to  be  incomparable,"  said  the  General,  leading  the 
way  to  the  saloon. 

After  breakfast,  the  party  got  ready  to  go  on  shore. 

The  little  steamer  made  several  trips  between  the  ship 
and  the  shore,  and  they  availed  themselves  of  its  accom- 
modation to  land. 

Terrace  after  terrace  they  ascended  the  picturesque 
heights  of  the  town  until  they  reached  the  highest  point 
— "  Spy  Hill," — from  which  they  enjoyed  a  magnificent 
bird's-eye  view  of  the  sea  and  land — the  broad  expanse  of 
the  channel ;  the  harbor,  with  its  abrupt  headlands  and 
its  countless  shipping;  its  shores,  with  their  beautiful 
trees  and  elegant  villas  ;  and  the  rolling  countries  beyond. 

They  spent  the  morning  in  walking  about  amid  the 
charming  scenery,  until  little  Lenny,  having  tired  his  own 
legs  and  everybody  else's  arms,  got  hungry  and  sleepy, 
and  ordered  his  biggers  to  give  him  something  to  eat  and 
to  put  him  to  bed. 

Then  they  went  down  to  the  village,  entered  a  pastry- 


116  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

cook's  shop,  and  got  a  light  luncheon ;  and,  next,  they 
hired  a  boat  to  take  them  back  to  their  ship. 

They  found  that  they  had  no  time  to  lose,  for  she  was 
getting  up  her  steam  to  start  again ;  and,  if  they  had  not 
hastened,  they  might  have  been  left  behind. 

The  steamer  sailed  at  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  ;  but 
she  encountered  rough  weather  in  the  channel,  so  that  it 
was  nearly  dark  the  next  day  when  she  reached  Liverpool. 

And  now  our  party  felt  the  inconvenience  of  having  so 
much  baggage.  They  were  anxious  to  hasten  on  to  Lon- 
don. They  could  see  Liverpool  at  any  future  time  before 
their  return  home;  but  they  wished  to  reach  London 
soon  enough  to  enjoy  the  last  few  remaining  weeks  of  the 
season,  and,  above  all,  to  be  in  time  to  see  the  M  Derby," 
which  was  to  come  off  in  two  days.  There  was  a  train 
to  start  at  six  that  evening,  and  if  they  could  have  caught 
it,  they  might  have  reached  London  by  twelve  midnight, 
in  time  for  a  good  night's  rest.  And  if  it  had  not  been 
for  their  great  quantity  of  baggage,  they  could  have  done 
so ;  but  they  had  twenty-one  trunks  to  be  inspected  by 
the  custom-house  officers,  and  had  also  to  wait  their  turn 
to  be  attended  to. 

There  is  much  grumbling  at  these  functionaries ;  but 
for  my  part,  I  have  found  them  always  courteous — doing 
their  ungracious  duty  with  as  much  forbearance  as  they 
could  conscientiously"  exercise. 

"  You  have  made  us  lose  the  train.  We  wished  to  go 
up  to  London  by  the  six  o'clock  express,"  growled  Gen- 
eral Lyon,  as  the  officer  on  duty  came  up  at  length  to  ex- 
amine the  luggage. 

"  Very  sorry,  sir  ;  but  it  could  not  be  helped.  There 
is  a  parliamentary  goes  at  ten." 

"'A  parliamentary?'  What  the  deuce  is  a  'parlia- 
mentary ? ' " 

The  man  looked  up  in  surprise  at  this  traveler's  igno- 
rance, yet  scarcely  knew  how  to  enlighten  him  on  so 
simple  a  subject ;  for  the  most  obvious  things  are  often  the 
most  difficult  of  explanation  to  those  that  do  not  under- 
stand them. 

"  What  the  mischief  is  the  parliamentary  ?  "  again  •'to- 
quired  the  General. 


ARRIVAL.  117 

The  officer  looked  up  from  the  open  trunk  before  which 
he  was  kneeling,  and  answered,  slowly  : 

"  Well,  sir,  the  parliamentary  is the  parliamentary, 

you  know." 

"Humph!" 

"  It  is  not  the  express." 

"  So  I  should  judge  from  its  name." 

"  It  is  the  slow,  heavy  train." 

"  Everything  '  parliamentary '  is,  I  should  imagine. 
When  does  this  '  parliamentary '  start  ?  " 

"  At  ten  to-night,  and  gets  in  at  five  in  the  morning." 

"  A  most  uncomfortable  hour ! — too  late  to  go  to  bed, 
and  too  early  to  be  up !  What  the  deuce  makes  your 
1  parliamentary '  so  slow  and  heavy  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  people's  train — the  accommodation — carries 
the  three  classes  of  carriages  and  stops  at  all  the  stations." 

"  Humph-humph ! " 

"  The  first-class  carriages  are  very  comfortable,  and  you 
can  sleep  in  them  as  comfortably  as  in  your  own  arm- 
chair." 

"  Humph  !  that  might  do  very  well  for  an  after-dinner 
nap ;  hardly  for  a  night's  rest !  " 

While  they  were  thus  conversing,  the  custom-house 
officer  was  passing  from  one  trunk  to  another,  lifting 
their  lids  and  looking  in.  He  finished,  and  marked  the 
lot,  and  went  away. 

"  I  t  hink,  grandpa,  if  you  had  had  ten  thousand  dollars 
worth  of  smuggled  goods  in  these  trunks,  and  designed  to 
cheat  the  revenue  of  the  duties,  you  could  not  have  gone 
to  work  more  cunningly  than  by  talking  as  you  did  to 
the  officer.  The  man  couldn't  attend  to  what  he  was 
doing  for  listening  to  you,"  laughed  Anna. 

"  Now  what  are  we  to  do  with  all  these '  impediments  ?  * 
I  wish  for  my  part,  the  custom-house  fellow  had  seized  the 
lot ;  or  that  we  had  encountered  a  storm  at  sea,  and  it 
had  been  found  necessary  to  throw  them  all  overboard  to 
lighten  the  ship  !  It  would  have  saved  us  a  deal  of  time, 
and  trouble,  and  expense.  And  we  have  all  we  really 
want  in  our  carpet-bags,"  growled  the  General. 

"Uncle,  I  hope  you  are  not  turning  into  a  regular 
grumbler?  That  wouldn't  be  like  yourself!  But  you 
have  done  nothing  but  grumble,  ever  since  you  landed, 


118  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

and  without  the  slightest  provocation,  you  naughty  old 
uncle  ! "  said  Brasilia,  saucily. 

u  My  dear,  give  me  some  credit  that  I  do  not  SWEAE  as 
well  as  grumble  !  " 

"  Oh,  uncle,  think  what  the  Dutchman  said  when  he 
whipped  his  sulky  son, — '  Hans,  you  might  as  coot  say 
*  tamn  '  as  tink  '  tamn  ! '  " 

"  Drusil,  I  am  thinking  * tamn  » very  intently,  ever  since 
I  came  on  shore.  Now,  where  the  deuce  are  the  porters  ? 
Now,  if  this  were  New  York,  one  would  be  deafened  by 
them,"  growled  the  General,  showing  himself  in  front. 

His  grievance  was  removed,  and  he  was  "  deafened  by 
them  "  and  others  immediately. 

"  Porter,  sir  ?  " 

«  Cab,  sir  ?  " 

"  Fly,  sir  ?  " 

"  Queen's  hotel  ?  " 

"Adelphi?" 

«  Star-and-Garter  ?  " 

"  Times,  sir  ?  " 

Were  some  of  the  sounds  shouted  into  his  ears — not 
once,  but  a  score  of  times. 

" Queen's  hotel,  sir?" 

« Lord  Admiral,  sir?" 

"  Carriage,  sir  ?  "    How  many,  sir  ?    Where  to,  sir  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell  when  I  can't  hear  myself  think,  for 
your  noise  ?  Dick,  answer  all  these  men,  and  see  to  the 
baggage  being  taken  to  the  station.  Jacob  hasn't  knowl- 
edge enough — he  would  be  sure  to  get  it  lost ;  though  for 
that  matter,  I  wish  he  would  lose  it — it  would  be  an  im- 
mense relief  to  me  !  I  shall  take  Anna  and  Drusilla  over 
to  that  restaurant,  to  get  them 'out  of  this  din,  and  to  give 
them  a  cup  of  tea." 

"  All  right,  uncle.  Pray  go  and  make  yourself  and  the 
ladies  comfortable,"  said  Dick,  good-humoredly. 

"  And  let  me  see,"  said  the  General,  examining  his  watch. 
**  It  is  now  nine  o'clock.  The — hem — '  parliamentary ' 
starts  at  ten.  We  have  but  an  hour  to  wait.  It  will  not 
be  worth  while  to  go  to  a  hotel.  I  think  it  will  be  best 
for  us  to  stop  over  there  until  it  is  time  for  us  to  go  to 
the  station.  See  to  getting  our  tickets,  Dick,  will  you  ? 
And  have  a  carriage  at  the  door  there  in  time." 


ARRIVAL.  119 

«  All  right,  uncle.     Make  yourself  easy." 

"  Come  along,  young  women !  Pina !  give  me  that 
child.  You  look  as  if  you  were  ready  to  drop  under  his 
weight." 

"  A  sleeping  baby  is  twice  as  heavy  as  a  waking  one, 
sir,"  said  the  girl,  as  she  placed  the  child  in  the  old  man's 
arms. 

And  regardless  of  the  staring  street  boys  who  grinned 
at  seeing  the  "  old  gent "  playing  nursemaid,  he  crossed 
the  street  to  a  cheerful  gas-lighted  pastry-cook's  shop, 
where  he  and  his  party  were  accommodated  with  a  small 
private  parlor  and  a  neatly-spread  tea-table. 

Before  they  got  half  through  with  tea,  Dick  joined  them 
and  reported  that  he  had  procured  the  tickets  for  a  whole 
compartment  in  the  first-class  carriages,  which  he  declared 
to  be  quite  as  comfortable  as  the  civil  custom-house 
officer  had  represented  them  to  be. 

Dick  was  served  with  a  cup  of  tea,  a  plate  of  sallyluns, 
toast,  periwinkles,  shrimps,  and  the  finest  strawberries 
he  had  ever  seen. 

Dick  quaffed  his  tea  with  avidity,  for  he  was  both  heated 
and  thirsty ;  and  he  also  enjoyed  the  toast  and  the  sally- 
luns ;  but  he  glanced  suspiciously  at  the  periwinkles  and 
the  shrimps. 

"  What  manner  of  fish,  fruit  or  vegetable  may  these 
be?"  he  inquired,  taking  up  a  plate  of  periwinkles  and 
squinting  at  them. 

"  Taste  and  see,"  answered  Anna,  as  with  the  point  of 
a  pin  she  delicately  drew  one  from  its  snail-like  shell. 

Drusilla  was  at  the  same  time  peeling  a  shrimp  for  little 
Lenny. 

Dick  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  and  shuddered. 
These  tea-table  delicacies  looked — the  one  so  like  an  in- 
sect, the  other  so  like  a  reptile. 

"  Try  this,  Dick,"  coaxed  Anna,  as  she  offered  him  a 
morsel  from  the  point  of  a  new  pin. 

Dick  shrank. 

"  Now  don't  be  prejudiced  !  Consider  what  an  uninvit. 
ing  edible  is  the  oyster,  in  the  shell  or  out  of  it !  Who 
that  did  not  know  how  good  it  is  would  ever  dare  to  eat 
it?  Now  try  this  ?  " 

«  Oh,  thou  modern  Eve !    I  take  it,  since  thou  tellst  me 


120  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

it  is  '  good  for  food,'  "  sighed  Dick,  as  he  gingerly  accepted 
the  dainty. 

"  Now,  how  do  you  like  it  ?  "  inquired  Anna. 

"  My  temptress,  it  is  delicious !  I  thank  thee  for  intro- 
ducing me  to  the  acquaintance  of  the  periwink." 

"  I  knew  you  would  like  it,"  said  Anna. 

"  More  s'imp  ?  more  s'iinp ! "  called  out  little  Lenny, 
for  whom  his  mamma  could  not  peel  fast  enough. 

"  Are  they  good  also,  Master  Lenny  ?  "  smiled  Dick, 
helping  himself  to  one. 

"  Day  dood.  Mate  Nannan  peel  for  woo,  Dit,"  answered 
the  little  Turk,  who  evidently  thought  that  women  were 
made  to  wait  on  men  and — boys. 

"  They  have  an  exquisite  flavor  !  They  are  as  fine,  with 
a  difference,  as  the  periwinkle  itself.  Master  Lenny,  ycur 
humble  servant.  I'm  bound  to  you  for  making  me 
acquainted  with  the  shrimp.  I  don't  know  which  of  these 
two  dainties  I  like  the  best.  After  this  I  can  believe  in  a 
man  being  in  love  with  two " 

"  Dishes  at  the  same  time,"  interjected  Anna. 

"  Ladies  at  the  same  time,"  concluded  Dick. 

"  More  s'imps  !  More  s'imps  !  Mate  Pina  peel !  "  vocifer- 
ated the  little  despot,  for  whom  his  mamma  could  not  keep 
up  the  supply. 

And  Pina  was  called  to  help  ;  but  new  hands  are  awk- 
ward at  the  shrimp  peeling  business ;  and  as  Pina  took  a 
minute  to  peel  a  delicate  morsel  that  Master  Lenny  swal- 
lowed in  a  second,  he  soon  called  out  again : 

"  More  s'imps  !  more  s'imps  !     Mate  Nannan  peel  too !  " 

Anna  good-naturedly  complied.  But  even  with  her 
help  the  demand  continued  to  be  greater  than  the  supply. 
And  the  tiny  autocrat,  looking  around  and  seeing  no 
more  female  slaves  at  hand,  called  out : 

"  More  s'imps !  more  s'imps !    And  make  Dit  peel." 

And  Dick  obediently  sacrificed  his  periwinkles,  and 
cheerfully  betook  himself  to  the  service  of  the  liliputian 
tyrant. 

But  still  the  demand  exceeded  the  supply,  for  these  vao- 
sals  were  awkward  at  the  work  ;  so,  after  glancing  dubi- 
ously at  his  venerable  relative,  Master  Leonard  sang  out 
lustily : 


ARRIVAL.  121 

"  More  s'imps !  more  s'imps !  And  mate  Untie  Granpa 
peel ! " 

And  the  veteran  soldier  of  hard- won  fields,  the  leader 
of  tens  of  thousands,  smiled  submissively  and  obeyed  the 
baby  boy. 

But  there  is  an  end  to  all  things,  even  to  infant  despot- 
ism, and  so  when  the  three-quarters  past  nine  struck,  the 
party  rose  from  the  table,  for  they  had  but  fifteen 
minutes  to  catch  the  train  in. 

They  hurried  on  their  outer  garments  and  hastened 
into  the  hired  fly  and  were  driven  rapidly  to  the  station. 

Lively  and  well-lighted,  but  by  no  means  noisy  or  con- 
fused was  the  scene.  There  was  a  very  long  and  heavy 
train  of  carriages,  for  it  carried  the  "  three  estates,"  but 
so  orderly  were  all  the  arrangements,  so  exact  were  the 
regulations,  so  well  trained  the  guards  and  porters,  so 
vigilant  the  police,  that  all  went  smoothly  and  surely  as 
clock-work. 

As  if  by  magic,  our  travelers  soon  found  themselves  in 
a  first-class  carriage,  with  all  their  luggage  piled  on  the 
roof,  flying  along  with  great  rapidity,  while  hedges,  fields 
and  farm-houses,  seen  dimly  in  the  half  light,  reeled  past 
on  either  side.  Though  it  was  ten  o'clock  post  meridian, 
yet  in  these  northern  latitudes,  and  at  this  season,  it  was 
still  twilight.  The  carriage  in  which  our  travelers  found 
themselves  was  in  many  respects  like  the  inside  of  a  large 
family  coach,  only  it  was  much  more  capacious  than  any 
such  vehicle.  It  had  eight  well-cushioned  spring  seats — 
four  front  and  four  back  ;  and  glass  doors  and  windows 
on  the  right  and  left.  In  recesses  under  the  seats  and 
racks  over  them  there  was  ample  space  for  the  storage  of 
all  their  light  luggage. 

Anna  and  Drusilla  occupied  the  back  seats,  General 
Lyon  and  Dick  the  front  ones.  Down  on  the  floor  be- 
tween them,  on  a  bed  made  of  rugs  and  shawls,  with  a 
carpet-bag  for  a  pillow,  little  Lenny,  satisfied  with  shrimps, 
was  laid  asleep.  Pina  and  Leo  had  seats  in  a  second- 
class  carriage. 

Once  shut  up  in  their  own  carriage  with  the  train  in 
motion,  our  travelers  were  as  isolated  from  all  other 
people  as  if  they  had  been  making  the  journey  hi  their 


122  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

own  family  coach.  They  neither  saw  nor  heard  anything 
of  their  fellow- passengers. 

For  the  first  hour  they  conversed  a  little  with  eactt 
other,  making  comments  upon  the  ride,  as : 

"  How  long  the  twilight  lasts  in  these  parts ; "  or : 

"  Will  this  light  mist  turn  to  rain  before  morning  ?  * 
or: 

"  What  a  carefully  cultivated  country  !  There  is  no 
waste  land  hereabouts.  The  whole  scene  seems  to  be  a 
perpetual  landscape  garden." 

But  in  the  second  hour  they  gradually  succumbed  to 
fatigue  and  drowsiness  and  dropped  off  to  sleep — each  re- 
posing in  a  corner  as  be  or  she  best  could,  and  waking 
only  when  the  train  would  stop  at  a  wayside  station, 
which,  by-the-by,  was  every  few  minutes. 

Whenever  it  stopped  there  were  passengers  to  get  in  or 
out,  but  the  train  was  so  very  long  that  the  chances  were 
that  these  passengers  would  be  a  quarter  of  a  mile  before 
or  behind  them ;  and  so,  though  our  friends  always  on 
these  occasions  roused  themselves  and  looked  forth,  they 
saw  little  beyond  the  lighted  station,  the  vanishing  plat- 
form, and  running  guards  and  porters. 

Drusilla  always  looked  from  the  windows  with  some- 
thing more  than  curiosity — with  eager  interest ;  for  since 
she  landed  in  England,  her  uppermost  thought  had  been 
that  she  was  in  the  same  country  with  her  Alick  ;  and  who 
knew  but  she  might  meet  him  anywhere  at  any  moment — 
even  at  one  of  these  wayside  stations  ? 

But  whenever  the  train  started  again,  the  swift  motion, 
and  the  late  hour,  and  the  comfortable,  not  to  say  luxuri- 
ous resting-place  lulled  her  in  a  light  slumber,  in  which 
she  was  still  conscious  of  the  strange,  new  scene — the 
wondrous  old  country  through  which  she  was  passing ; 
feeling  that  she  loved  the  old  motherland  of  her  race,  and 
loved  it  well ;  dreaming  that  she  was  returning  there  after 
ages  of  expatriation  ;  seeing  shades  of  knights  in  armor, 
«*  old  ancestral  spirits  ; "  seeing  visions  of  mediae val  halls, 
with  all  the  barbaric  pageantry  of  long  ago,  dimly  shad- 
owed forth.  Then  waking  up  to  note  with  delight  the 
fresh,  bright  rural  scenes  of  to-day — the  thickly-sown, 
but  luxuriantly -growing  fields ;  the  green  hedges ;  the 
crowded  but  flourishing  gardens ;  the  shrub-shaded,  vine- 


ARRIVAL.  123 

covered  cottages — the  humblest  laborer's  hut  all  mantled 
with  flowering  green  creepers  that  made  it  look  like  a 
garden  bower,  the  slenderest  strip  of  land  among  the  line 
of  rails  thickly  planted  with  vegetables, — nothing  wasted, 
nothing  ugly. 

It  was  only  a  little  past  midnight,  yet  it  was  already 
morning,  and  every  moment  day  broadened. 

Drusilla  continued  to  gaze  with  surprise  and  delight 
upon  the  beautiful  land ;  for,  whatever  the  sky  of  Eng- 
land may  be,  the  face  of  the  country,  especially  in  this 
region,  is  very  charming. 

Sometimes  Brasilia's  contemplations  would  be  inter- 
rupted by  a  restless  movement  of  little  Lenny.  She  would 
then  stoop  and  turn  him  over,  and  he  would  fall  asleep 
again. 

General  Lyon  and  Anna  slept  so  soundly  at  length  that 
they  were  not  awakened  by  the  stopping  of  the  train,  nor 
even  by  the  loud  snoring  of  Dick,  who,  when  in  a  state  of 
somnolency,  was  a  fine  performer  on  the  proboscis — the 
only  musical  instrument  he  understood. 

Long  before  they  reached  London,  its  distant,  huge 
cloud  of  smoke  and  fog  hanging  upon  the  horizon  greeted 
the  eye — its  distant  thunder  of  blended  sounds  came  soft- 
ened to  the  ear. 

Soon  they  were  at  Euston  Square  station,  in  all  the 
great  crowd  and  bustle  of  the  parliamentary  train's  ar- 
rival. 

It  was  surprising  to  them,  amid  the  hundreds  of  travel- 
ers and  the  hills  of  luggage  to  be  cared  for,  how  soon  our 
party,  without  much  effort  on  their  own  part,  was  at- 
tended to. 

Before  they  had  time  to  become  impatient,  they  found 
themselves  in  one  cab,  followed  by  their  servants  in  an- 
other, bowling  along  through  the  streets  of  London. 

It  was  but  little  past  four  o'clock,  and  all  the  shops 
were  still  closed,  and  the  sidewalks  nearly  deserted.  Only 
the  earliest  bakers',  butchers',  and  costermongers'  carts 
were  abroad,  or  cabs  and  vans  taking  passengers  to  and 
from  early  trains,  or  cook-maids  at  the  heads  of  area  stairs, 
receiving  from  the  milkman  the  daily  supply. 

Even  at  this  early  hour,  there  were  many  novelties  of 
the  London  streets  that  struck  pleasantly  upon  our  tray- 


124  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

elers'  eyes,  among  them  the  abundance  of  flowers 
in  almost  every  open  window  of  every  house.  But  what 
pleased  Master  Lenny  most  was  the  costermongers'  littlt 
carts,  piled  with  green  vegetables  and  ripe  fruit,  and  drawr 
by  little  donkeys.  Master  Lenny  took  them  to  be  toy- 
carts  for  little  boys  to  play  with,  and  insisted  upon  being 
accommodated  with  one  immediately  ;  nor  was  he  to  be 
quieted  until  his  mamma  promised  him  a  mysterious 
pleasure  hi  a  donkey-ride  at  Greenwich. 

It  is  a  long  drive  from  Euston  Square  station  to  the 
Morley  House,  Trafalgar  Square,  which  had  been  selected 
as  their  hotel  by  General  Lyon,  at  the  recommendation  of 
a  fellow  passenger  on  board  the  Hurona. 

It  was  nearly  five  o'clock  when  they  reached  the  house, 
yet  few  servants  seemed  to  be  stirring  about  it. 

They  could  be  accommodated  with  apartments  immedi- 
ately, said  the  polite  functionary  who  happened  to  be  on 
duty ;  but  he  regretted  to  add  that  they  would  have  to 
wait  for  breakfast,  as  the  head  waiter  did  not  rise  until 
seven. 

"  Two  hours  to  wait.  It  is  too  bad,  after  such  a  tire- 
some night-ride,"  groaned  General  Lyon. 

He  had  endured  nights  of  toils  and  days  of  fasting,  in 
the  battle  times  of  long  ago ;  but  he  was  young  then  and 
the  cause  was  great,  so  he  had  rather  liked  that  sort  of 
life ;  but  it  was  different  with  him  now  that  he  was  old 
and  fated  to  abide  the  pleasure  of  the  head  waiter. 

They  were  shown  to  large,  airy,  clean  bedrooms,  all 
near  each  other,  and  opening  upon  the  corridors,  and  having 
one  private  parlor  in  the  suite. 

In  this  parlor  our  party  gathered  for  a  moment  to  con- 
Bult.  The  delay  of  breakfast  is  sometimes  felt  as  a  calamity. 

"  Can  we  not  procure  even  a  cup  of  coffee  for  love  or 
money  ?  "  inquired  Dick. 

The  official  was  very  sorry,  but  the  head  waiter  would 
not  rise  till  seven. 

"  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  send  a  chamber-maid,  then  ?  " 
requested  Anna. 

He  was  very  sorry,  but  he  was  afraid  the  chamber-maids 
were  not  yet  stirring.  The  hour  was  early. 

"  So  it  is ;  and  we  must  be  reasonable.  Servants  must 
hare  their  rest,  you  know,"  said  Drusilla,  soothingly. 


ARRIVAL.  125 

And  the  really  obliging  attendant  smiled  and  bowed. 

"  Let  us  go  to  our  rooms  and  make  ourselves  comfortable 
and  lie  down.  Perhaps  we  shall  sleep ;  at  any  rate,  we 
shall  rest.  The  two  hours  will  soon  pass,"  continued  Dru- 
silla. 

"  No,  no,  no,  no !  No  do  'leep  !  "  objected  the  head  of 
the  family,  who  had  had  his  own  sleep  out  and  had  waked 
up  hungry.  "  No  do  'leep  !  More  s'imp — more  s'imp  ! " 

"  Poor  little  fellow,  he  is  hungry,"  sighed  Brasilia. 

"  I  think  I  can  get  some  warm  milk  and  bread  for  the 
child,  ma'am,"  said  the  man. 

«  Oh,  I  shall  he  very  much  obliged  to  you  if  you  will. 
We  can  wait  better  than  he  can,"  said  Drusilla,  gratefully. 

And  the  man  went  out  and  fetched  the  milk  and  bread, 
which,  at  first,  Lenny  refused  to  touch,  peremptorily  ex- 
claiming : 

"  No,  no,  no !     No  b'ed  milt ! — more  s'imp !  " 

But  being  assured  that  his  slaves  could  not  procure 
shrimps  for  him,  he  seemed  to  divine  that  even  despots 
cannot  compel  people  to  perform  impossibilities,  and  also 
being  very  hungry,  he  ate  his  bread  and  milk. 

When  Lenny  had  finished  his  meal,  the  party  separated 
and  went  to  their  bedrooms  to  lie  down  for  an  hour  or 
two.  They  did  not  expect  to  sleep,  but  they  slept — so 
soundly  that  they  did  not  awake  until  some  time  after 
seven  o'clock,  when  a  waiter  rapped  at  General  Lyon's 
door  to  take  his  orders  about  the  breakfast. 

The  General  referred  him  for  instructions  to  Mrs. 
Hammond. 

And  soon  the  whole  party,  much  refreshed  by  their 
sleep,  assembled  in  the  private  parlor  for  breakfast. 

It  was  after  eight,  however,  before  it  was  finally  set 
upon  the  table. 

There  were  fine  Mocha  coffee,  English  breakfast  tea, 
rich  cream,  sweet  butter,  fresh  eggs,  broiled  ham  and 
broiled  pigeons,  light  bread,  toast  and  muffins. 

For  a  few  minutes  our  famished  travelers  were  so 
closely  engaged  hi  discussing  these  delicacies,  that  not  a 
word  was  wasted  upon  any  other  subject  than  their  meal. 
But  after  they  had  all  eaten  and  were  satisfied,  they 
began  to  talk  of  their  immediate  plans  of  enjoyment. 
The  great  city  held  out  a  thousand  attractions  to  stran- 


126  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

gers.  It  was  an  "  embarrassment  of  riches"  in  the  sight- 
seeing line  that  troubled  them. 

"  Where  shall  we  go  first '? "  was  the  great  question. 

Various  answers  were  returned. 

"  To  the  Royal  Academy." 

«  To  Westminster  Abbey." 

«  To  the  Tower." 

"  The  British  Museum." 

"  St.  Paul's  Cathedral." 

"  The  Zoological  Gardens." 

These  were  a  few  of  the  suggestions  offered  ;  but  as  the 
three  young  people  spoke  at  once,  it  was  impossible  for 
their  elder  and  arbitrator  to  know  who  favor  what. 

"  I  think,  upon  reflection,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  that  we 
had  better  not  attempt  any  of  those  great  sights  just  now. 
To  see  either  one  of  them  well  would  be  an  exhausting 
day's  work ;  and  we  wish  to  be  fresh  for  the  Derby  to- 
morrow. The  Derby,  my  children !  Come !  we  shall 
have  time  enough  to  see  everything  else  afterwards.  But 
we  can  only  see  the  Derby  to-morrow ;  so  to-day,  I  think, 
we  will  just  take  a  fly  and  drive  around  and  leave  some 
of  our  letters  of  introduction,  with  our  present  address. 
What  do  you  say  to  that  plan  ?  " 

As  the  plan  was  of  the  General's  devising,  all  agreed 
to  it. 

A  fly  was  ordered,  and  the  ladies  retired  to  change 
their  dresses  for  the  drive. 

Drasilla  was  the  most  expeditious  with  her  toilet.  She 
soon  returned  to  the  parlor  fully  equipped  for  her  drive. 

Little  Lenny,  in  charge  of  his  nurse,  was  standing 
within  the  recess  of  the  front  window,  dancing  with  de- 
light at  something  he  saw  outside.  Drusilla  heard  a  pair 
of  shrill,  cracked  voices  in  apparent  conflict  below. 

"  Hee  !  hee !  Doosil — hee ! "  shouted  the  child. 

Drusilla  approached,  and  witnessed  for  the  first  time 
the  renowned  Punch  and  Judy  show. 

While  standing  there  and  enjoying  her  child's  enjoy- 
ment, she  saw  a  gentleman  come  forth  apparently  from 
a  coffee-room  below  and  start  to  cross  Trafalgar  Square ; 
and  with  a  half-suppressed  cry  she  recognized — 

Alexander  Lyon. 

She  had  been  always  looking  for  him — always  expect- 


ARRIVAL.  127 

ing  to  see  him  since  she  first  set  foot  in  England,  yet  she 
had  known  that  her  looking  was  like  the  search  for  a 
needle  in  a  hay-rick,  and  her  expectations  as  extravagant 
in  the  first  instance  as  they  would  be  in  the  last. 

And  now  that  she  actually  saw  him  walk  out  from  the 
same  house  in  which  she  herself  was  sojourning,  the 
astonishment  and  the  shock  were  so  great,  that  she  reeled 
and  held  by  the  window-sill  for  support. 

Without  stopping  to  consider  whether  the  action  might 
be  proper  or  otherwise,  she  turned  to  the  waiter  who 
was  engaged  in  taking  away  the  breakfast  service,  and 
beckoned  him  to  her  side.  He  came,  his  mouth  a  little 
open  with  wonder. 

"  Does  that  gentleman  stop  here  ?  "  she  inquired,  point- 
ing  to  Mr.  Lyon. 

"  Lord  Killcrichtoun  ?  Yes,  ma'am,  he  stops  here,"  re- 
plied the  waiter. 

"  No,  you  mistake.  You  think  I  mean  somebody  else ; 
but  I  mean  that  gentleman.  Look  !  he  is  just  half  across 
the  square  now." 

"  Just  so,  ma'am,  Lord  Killcrichtoun  of  Killcrichtoun, 
County  of  Sutherland,  North  Britain.  Yes,  ma'am,  he 
is  here." 

"  I  am  sure  you  mistake.  I  allude  to  the  gentleman 
in  gray.  Look!  now  he  lifts  his  hat  and  replaces  it. 
There  he  is  passing  the  corner  ?  " 

"  Precisely,  ma'am.  He  is  up  for  the  Derby,  ma'am, 
begging  your  pardon.  My  lord  goes  down  to  Epsom  this 
evening,  ma'am.  Any  more  commands,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Thanks,  no  ;  you  may  go." 

Drusilla  sank  down  upon  the  nearest  seat,  unmindful 
of  the  prattling  of  her  little  Lenny,  who  was  still  laugh- 
ing with  delight  at  the  broad  absurdities  of  the  puppets 
show;  for  the  whole  truth  flashed  on  her  now.  The 
young  American  gentleman  who  had  claimed  the  barony 
of  Killcrichtoun,  in  the  right  of  his  mother,  was  no  other 
than  her  own  Alick  !  And  he  was  living  under  the  same 
roof  with  her !  Did  he  know  that  she  was  here,  or  would 
he  find  it  out  ?  Were  the  names  of  all  new-comers  regis- 
tered in  open  books  in  English  hotels  as  in  American 
ones  ?  If  so,  was  it  his  habit  to  look  at  them  ?  What 


128  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

would  he  think  if  he  saw  her  name  on  the  books  of  the 
hotel— 

"  Mrs.  Alexander  Lyon,  child,  and  servant." 

Would  he  happen  to  see  her  ?  Would  he  wish  to  see 
little  Lenny  ?  Suppose  he  were  to  meet  her — what  would 
he  say  or  do  ?  He  might  pass  her ;  but  could  he  pass 
little  Lenny — charming  little  Lenny — fair-haired,  blue- 
eyed  little  Lenny,  with  his  father's  own  features  and 
complexion  ? 

It  was  scarcely  possible  that  he  could. 

And  if  he  should  stop  to  caress  his  son,  to  take  him 
in  his  arms,  to  press  him  to  his  heart,  what  next? 
Would  he  stop  there,  and  put  the  child  away  again  ? 

Not  likely !  for,  setting  natural  affection  aside,  now 
that  he  had  a  title,  he  would  want  an  heir  ;  and  what  a 
fine,  promising  one  was  this  ? 

Or  would  he  perhaps  claim  the  child  and  take  him 
from  his  mother  ?  He  could  do  so.  The  law  would  give 
him  Lenny,  though  it  should  break  the  mother's  heart. 
Would  he  avail  himself  of  this  law  to  tear  her  child  from 
her  arms? 

No,  never !  she  thought ;  badly  as  he  had  treated  her 
while  he  had  been  maddened  by  the  passions  of  pride 
and  ambition,  he  would  never  while  in  his  sober  senses — 
never  in  cold  blood  deal  her  such  a  cruel  blow. 

True  he  had  once,  in  bitterly  cruel  terms,  denounced 
and  renounced  her  forever ;  but  she  thought  of  his  words 
whenever  they  forced  themselves  upon  her  memory,  only 
as  the  ravings  of  frenzied  anger  ;  she  knew  that  they 
would  never  have  been  carried  out  to  extremity.  Alexan- 
der had  told  her  that  she  might  starve,  but  she  felt  in 
her  heart  that  he  would  never  even  have  let  her  want ! 

And  now  she  felt  sure  that,  however  he  might  learn  to 
love  his  little  Lenny, — however  he  might  desire  to  pos- 
sess him,  he  would  never  attempt  to  take  him  away  from 
her. 

No,  she  was  sure  thac  he  would  rather  let  little  Lenny 
lead  him  back  to  her. 

Her  hopes  arose,  her  heart  beat  quickly  at  the  thought. 

Did  she  then  feel  no  jealous  pain  at  the  idea  of  being  re- 
united to  her  husband  only  through  his  natural  affection 
for  his  child  ? 


ARRIVAL.  129 

Not  the  least.  She  loved  both  too  purely  for  such 
jealousy. 

Ou  the  contrary,  she  felt  that  it  would  be  sweet  to  be 
indebted  to  little  Lenny  for  a  reconciliation  with  his 
father.  And  she  knew,  besides,  that  once  reconciled  to 
Alick  by  any  means,  and  especially  by  this  means,  she 
could  WIN  HEB  WAY  to  his  heart,  and  gain  a  firmer  hold 
there  than  she  had  ever  possessed  before. 

Then  her  thoughts  reverted  to  his  new  title : 

"  Lord  Killcrichtoun — Baron  Killcrichtoun  of  Killcrich- 
toun." 

From  what  she  had  read  she  knew  that  it  was  an  almost 
barren  title,  no  wealth  coming  with  it, — only  an  old  ruin, 
and  a  few  wretched  huts  in  the  wildest  part  of  the  High- 
lands appertaining  to  it. 

But  in  his  pride  of  race  he  had  claimed  the  title,  and  no 
doubt  had  gone  to  great  expense  to  prove  his  right  to  it, 
and  he  would  probably  remain  in  England  to  enjoy  it, 
since  in  America  it  would  only  make  him  ridiculous. 

She  herself  was  strongly  attached  to  her  native  country 
with  its  bright  sunshine,  its  vast  forests  and  its  high 
mountains.  All  her  friends  and  all  her  fortunes  were 
there,  yet  she  would  gladly  expatriate  herself  to  live  "  any- 
where, anywhere"  under  the  sun,  with  her  Alick. 

While  she  mused,  General  Lyon,  Anna,  and  Dick  came 
hi,  ready  for  their  drive. 

Dick  said  that  the  fly  was  waiting. 

So,  after  charging  Pina  to  be  very  careful  of  little 
Lenny,  Drusilla  followed  her  party  down-stairs  and  into 
the  carriage,  and  they  started — to  go  first  as  in  duty  bound 
to  leave  their  cards  at  the  American  Embassy,  and  then 
to  leave  their  letters  of  introduction  with  the  people  for 
whem  they  were  intended. 

They  did  but  stop  and  send  in  their  cards  and  letters, 
they  made  no  visit  anywhere  ;  but  preferred  to  leave  it  to 
the  option  of  their  friends  and  correspondents  to  make 
their  acquaintance  or  not. 

They  returned  to  the  Morley  House  at  four  in  the 
afternoon. 

Anna  went  into  her  bedroom  to  take  off  her  bonnet ; 
but  Drusilla  hurried  at  once  into  the  parlor  to  look  after 
her  child. 


180  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

She  found  little  Lenny  quite  safe ;  but  holing  over  with 
excitement,  not  to  say  indignation. 

«*  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  my  little  man  ? "  in- 
quired the  mother,  sitting  down  and  lifting  the  child  to 
her  lap. 

"  Man  !  man !  tut  off  Lenny  turl !  "  exclaimed  the  child, 
pointing  to  his  head,  while  his  blue  eyes  flashed  and  his 
rosy  cheeks  flushed. 

"  Cut  off  Lenny's  curl  ?  Who  did  it  ?  Pina !  who  did 
this  ?  "  inquired  Brasilia,  looking  at  the  short  lock  from 
which  the  curl  had  been  severed. 

« Indeed,  ma'am,  I  don't  know !  I  left  Master  Leonard 
in  charge  of  the  chambermaid  only  one  minute,  while  I 
ran  to  get  his  milk  and  bread,  and  when  I  came  back  it 
was  done." 

"  And  what  did  the  chambermaid  say  ?  " 

"  She  said  as  how " 

"  Never  mind !  I  had  rather  hear  the  account  from  her- 
self. Go  and  try  and  find  that  chambermaid,  and  fetch 
her  here." 

Pina  went  on  the  errand  and  soon  returned  with  a  bloom- 
ing English  girl,  who  curtsied  and  stood  waiting  orders. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  inquired  Brasilia. 

"  Susan,  ma'am." 

"  Well,  Susan,  did  you  have  charge  of  this  little  child 
for  a  few  minutes  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  the  girl,  blushing. 

«  Then  how  came  you  to  let  any  one  cut  off  his  curl  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  ma'am,  I  couldn't  help  it !  It  was  done  so 
sudden.  And  I  didn't  dare  oppose  my  lord." 

«  My  lord  ?  " 

«  My  Lord  Killcrichtoun  it  was,  ma'am,  who  did  it." 

«  Killcrichtoun  !  "  repeated  Brasilia,  as  a  light  broke 
on  her  mind. 

Kittchristian!"  exclaimed  Pina,  hi  dismay.  "  Killchris- 
tian  !  !  It's  a  wonder  he  had  not  cut  off  the  child's  head 
as  well  as  his  hair !  Good  gracious !  was  ever  such  a 
heathenish,  savage,  barbarious  name ! " 

"  So  it  was  one  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  house  who  did 
it  ? "  inquired  Drusilla,  striving  to  control  the  excess  oi 
her  emotions. 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  but  indeed  I  thought  by  the  way  he  be 


ARRIVAL.  131 

haved  that  he  had  a  right  to  do  it,  and  that  the  child  was 
some  kin  to  him.  He  don't  act  so  like  a  mad  gentleman 
in  general,  ma'am." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  Well,  ma'am,  now  I  think  upon  it,  I  almost  believe  he 
must  have  watched  his  opportunity  ;  for  as  soon  as  ever 
the  nursemaid  was  gone,  he  came  to  the  door,  looked  all 
around,  and  seeing  no  one  but  me  and  my  charge,  took 
the  boy  up  in  his  arms  and  hugged  him  and  kissed  him 
and  fondled  him,  and  almost  cried  over  him ;  and  then 
before  I  could  suspect,  much  less  prevent  his  doing  it,  he 
out  with  his  pen-knife  and  whipped  off  that  pretty  golden 
curl.  And  then  he  hurried  away.  I  think  he  heard  the 
nursemaid  coming,  for  she  was  in  the  room  the  next  min- 
ute. And  you  came  in  almost  immediately  after,  ma'am." 

"  Then  this  has  just  occurred  ?  " 

"  Not  ten  minutes  ago,  ma'am.    Anything  else,  ma'am  ?  '* 

"  No,"  answered  the  lady.    And  the  girl  withdrew. 

Drusilla  called  Pina  to  follow  her  and  went  slowly  into 
her  bedroom. 

While  taking  off  her  bonnet  and  mantle  and  changing 
her  dress  for  dinner,  she  was  scarcely  conscious  of  what 
she  was  doing.  Her  thoughts  were  absorbed  by  what, 
had  just  occurred. 

"  Poor  Alick,"  she  said ;  "  to  love  his  child,  his  only  son. 
and  only  child,  and  not  feel  free  to  caress  him !  Ohv 
Alick,  Alick,  dear,  do  you  think  I  would  keep  him  from 
you  ?  Much  as  I  love  him,  you  might  have  him  half  the 
time ;  you  might  have  him  all  day,  so  that  you  would  be 
kind  to  him,  and  I  know  you  would  be,  and  would  let  me 
have  him  back  at  night.  Yes,  Alick,  dear,  though  you 
might  never  see  or  speak  to  me  again,  I  would  not  keep 
the  child  out  of  your  way.  Love  your  boy,  Alick,  dear, 
and  take  all  the  comfort  from  him  you  can.  He  has  been 
a  great  comfort  to  me,  Alick,  the  little  son  you  gave  me, 
has." 

So  ran  her  thoughts  as  she  mechanically  put  on  a  mauve 
taffeta  dress  and  fastened  her  point  lace  collar  with  a  dia- 
mond brooch,  scarcely  knowing  what  she  wore. 

Pina  was  also  holding  discourse,  but  not  with  herself 
or  in  silence. 

"  My  precious  little  pet,"  she  said,  as  she  dressed  Master 


132  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Lenny  in  his  embroidered  white  frock.  "  My  pretty  little 
darling,  did  its  Pea-nut  leave  it  all  alone  with  a  stranger 
in  a  strange  land,  where  Killchristians  go  about  scalping 
little  babies,  my  sugar  ?  I  will  never  leave  it  alone  again 
as  long  as  I  live,  or  leastways  as  long  as  we  stay  in  this 
land,  where  Killchristians  cut  and  hew  at  babies  !  Sup- 
pose he  had  cut  off  its  precious  little  finger  or  toe  ?  What 
would  its  Pea-nut  have  done?"  Then  turning  impa- 
tiently to  her  mistress,  she  said  : 

"  Ma'am,  you  don't  seem  to  care  at  all  now  about  that 
wild  beast  of  a  Killchristian  rushing  in  upon  little  Lenny 
like  a  North  American  Indian  with  a  drawn  knife  and 
scalping  off  his  hair.  Suppose  it  had  been  his  precious 
nose  or  his  ears  that  the  savage  took  a  fancy  to  ?  But  it's 
my  belief  after  all  he  was  a  thief  and  wanted  to  sell  Len- 
ny's pretty  golden  curls  to  a  lady's  hair-dresser ;  and  he 
would  have  cut  all  the  curls  off  his  head  if  he  hadn't 
heard  me  coming.  Wish  I  had  caught  him  at  his  tricks ! 
Never  mind,  let  me  ever  catch  him  near  little  Lenny 
again,  that's  all !  Lenny  will  be  certain  to  know  him 
again,  if  I  do  not ! " 

"  You  will  know  him,  Pina  ;  but  you  do  not  know  of 
whom  you  are  speaking.  The  gentleman  who  cut  off 
Lenny's  curl  had  a  perfect  right  to  do  so.  Lord  Killcrich- 
toun  is  Mr.  Alexander  Lyon,  or  was  so  until  he  got  his 
ancestor's  title.  Why  should  you  be  so  astonished? 
Didn't  you  know  that  he  was  in  London  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Pina,  unable  to  recover  from  her 
astonishment;  "but  London  is  a  biggish  willage,  and  I 
didn't  expect  to  see  him,  much  less  hear  him  called  Kill- 
Christian  Howsever,  I  think,  begging  of  your  pardon, 
ma'am,  as  the  name  suits  him  very  well.  'Deed  it's  much 
of  a  muchness  with  the  other  name,  for  I  reckon  as  lions 
kills  Christians,  and  eats  'em  too,  whenever  they  get  a 
chance ! " 

"  Pina,  you  hurt  me  when  you  speak  in  that  way  of 
Lenny's  father."  (A  less  gentle  spirit  would  have  said 
to  her  servant  "Jyou  offend  me."  But  Drusilla  had  much 
more  tenderness  than  dignity  in  her  nature  and  man- 
ners.) 

"  I  am  sorry,  ma'am.    Indeed,  ma'am,  I  would  rather 


THE  DERBY.  133 

bite  off  the  end  of  my  tongue  than  let  it  say  anything  to 
hurt  you,"  replied  Pina. 

"  Now  notice  then,  my  good  girl.  It  may  happen  that 
you  may  see  Mr.  Lyon  some  time  when  you  are  out  with 
little  Lenny.  If  you  should,  you  must  not  avoid  him. 
On  the  contrary,  take  the  child  to  him.  It  will  be  good 
to  promote  affection  between  the  child  and  his  father." 

"  I  will  do  as  you  say,  ma'am." 

Brasilia  then  went  into  the  parlor  to  join  her  friends 
at  dinner.  But  she  said  nothing  of  Lenny's  adventure. 

"  This  evening,"  said  General  Lyon,  "  we  go  to  old 
classic  Drury  Lane.  And  to-morrow  for  the  Derby." 

Brasilia's  heart  beat — but  her  only,  or  at  least  her 
chief  object  in  going  to  the  Derby  was  not  to  see  the 
great  race,  but  to  see  perhaps — her  beloved  husband. 


CHAPTER  XT 

THE     DERBY. 

I  have  set  my  life  upon  a  cast, 
And  I  will  abide  the  hazard  of  the  die  —  SHAKESPEARE. 


^  OH,  it  is  drizzling  !  I  wonder  if  it  is  not  always 
zling  hi  this  whimpering  climate,"  grumbled  Anna,  as  she 
met  Brasilia  in  their  private  parlor  very  early  on  the- 
morning  of  the  Berby  Day. 

"  It  is  but  a  light  drizzle  ;  it  will  not  hurt  us  and  it 
may  clear  off,"  suggested  Brasilia,  hopefully. 

"  All  ready,  my  darlings  ?  That  is  right,  for  we  must 
make  an  early  start  if  we  wish  to  get  a  good  position  on 
the  hill.  I  don't  know  that  reserved  places  are  overtaken 
in  advance  for  the  Berby  ;  but  I  do  know  that  we  have 
not  secured  any.  Ring  for  breakfast,  Anna,  my  child,  and 
let  us  have  it  over.  But  where  is  Bick  ?  "  inquired  the 
General,  as  he  joined  his  young  people. 

"  He  has  stepped  around  to  the  livery  stable  to  make 
sure  of  the  barouche  we  engaged.  He  will  be  back  in  a 
few  minutes,"  replied  Anna. 

"  He  might  have  left  that  to  the  servants  ;  but  Bick 
can't  keep  out  of  a  stable,  if  only  he  has  the  faintest 
shadow  of  an  excuse  to  go  into  one.  Well  —  he  might  go 


134  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

into  worse  places,"  said  the  General,  just  as  the  absentee 
returned. 

"  A  strong,  well  sprung,  capacious  barouche  and  a  fine 
pair  of  horses  !  Altogether  as  good  a  turn-out  as  is  to  be 
had  for  love  or  money,"  said  Dick,  as  he  threw  himself 
into  a  chair. 

"  But  what  is  that  you  have  there  ?  "  inquired  the  Gen- 
eral, pointing  to  a  well-sized  parcel  rolled  up  in  tissue 
paper  which  Mr.  Hammond  carried  in  his  hands. 

"  This  !  Oh,  this  contains  our  veils,"  answered  Dick, 
unrolling  the  parcel  and  displaying  yards  of  blue,  green, 
mauve,  brown  and  gray  barege. 

«  Our — what  f  " 

"  Veils  for  the  Derby.  I  saw  other  fellows  buying  veils 
and  they  told  me  it  was  the  usual  thing  to  keep  off  the 
dust,  you  know.  There,  Anna,  there's  a  blue  one  for  you. 
Needn't  take  the  trouble  to  hem  it ;  nobody  does ;  it  is 
only  to  be  used  for  one  occasion,  and  is  never  fit  for  any- 
thing else  afterwards.  Here,  Drusa,  you  may  have  the 
green  one ;  and  little  Lenny  the  mauve  ;  and  now,  uncle, 
here  are  two — a  gray  and  a  brown,  for  you  and  me.  I 
thought  you  would  like  a  subdued  color  best,  as  I  do. 
We  are  to  tie  them  around  our  hats,"  said  Dick,  offering 
the  choice  of  the  remaining  veils  to  the  General. 

The  veteran  soldier  laughed  and  shook  his  head. 

«  But,  uncle,  every  gentleman  wears  a  veil." 

«  Nonsense,  Dick  !  somebody  has  been  selling  you." 

"  Indeed,  no,  they  were  all  buying  veils  and  fastening 
"them  on  to  their  hats." 

"  Then  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  make  myself  ridiculous  by 
wearing  a  veil  like  a  girl." 

"  Well,  then,  you'll  get  yourself  blinded,  deafened,  stu- 
pefied and  suffocated  by  the  dust— eyes,  ears,  nostrils  and 
bronchial  tubes  will  all  be  filled." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  where  the  dust  is  to  come  from 
on  such  a  day  as  this  ?  Do  you  see  how  it  is  raining  ?  " 

"  Don't  know,  sir !  only  know  what  the  fellows  here 
tell  me." 

« They  are  quizzing  you,  as  I  said  before,  that's  my 
'Opinion." 

While  he  spoke  the  door  was  opened  and  Mr.  Spencer 
*nd  Mr.  Tredegar  were  announced. 


THE  DERBY.  135 

These  were  two  young  Americans,  who  had  been  fellow- 
students  with  Dick  Hammond,  and  whom  the  General  had 
met  on  the  day  before  and  invited  to  breakfast  and  to  go 
to  the  Derby  with  his  party. 

After  bowing  to  the  ladies  and  shaking  hands  with  the 
gentlemen,  the  new-comers  took  the  seats  offered  them, 
and  commenced  upon  the  all-engrossing  subject  of  the 
hour. 

"  Fine  day  for  the  Derby,  sir ! "  said  Mr.  Spencer,  who 
had  been  three  years  in  London  attached  to  the  Amer- 
ican Minister's  suite,  and  might  be  supposed  to  be  posted 
on  the  subject.  "  Very  fine  day  for  the  Derby." 

"  Fine  day  !  Why,  do  you  see  how  it  is  raining  ?  "  de- 
manded the  General,  in  surprise. 

"  Drizzling,  sir,  drizzling ;  just  enough  to  lay  the  dust." 

"  Dust !  ah !  by  the  way  that  reminds  me !  Here  is  a 
lunatic  has  brought  an  assortment  of  veils,  and  he  says 
we  must  each  wear  one — men  and  women  both." 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir — the  regular  thing,  you  know,  like  the 
train  at  court.  It  is  to  protect  the  wearer  from  the 
smothering  dust." 

"  But,"  said  the  General,  frowning,  "  as  I  was  just  ask- 
ing my  nephew  when  you  came  in,  where  is  the  dust  to 
come  from  on  such  a  day  as  this  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  it  may  clear  up  by  the  time  we  shall  be  com- 
ing home.  And  it  is  in  the  home-coming  we  raise  the 
sirocco.  We  must  be  prepared  for  the  worst." 

"  Worst  ?    Do  you  call  clear  weather  the  worst  ?  " 

"  The  worst  possible  for  the  Derby,  sir.  But  this  is  a 
truth  that  you  will  never  be  able  to  believe  until  you  see 
it  demonstrated.  And  you  will  probably  see  it  done 
to-day." 

As  they  talked,  the  waiter  came  in  to  lay  the  cloth  for 
breakfast. 

Watching  his  opportunity,  he  presently  came  to  Gen- 
eral Lyon,  and  said,  in  a  low,  respectful  voice  : 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  would  you  like  to  have  a  lunch- 
eon put  up  to  take  with  you  ?  " 

"  Eh  ?  Yes,  certainly,"  replied  the  General,  at  the  same 
time  turning  towards  his  young  visitors  a  comically 
appealing  look,  as  much  as  to  say : 


136  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  You  see  even  this  waiter  knows  me  to  be  a  green, 
horn." 

"  What  would  you  please  order,  sir  ?  "  inquired  John. 

"  Eh  ? — oh,  anything  at  all !  something  nice  and  tidy." 

"  Pigeon-pie,  sir,  if  you  please  ?  " 

"  Spencer,  is  pigeon-pie  the  regular  thing  ? "  said  the 
General,  winking  at  his  friend. 

"  I  believe  it  is  one  of  the  regular  things.  Derby  Day 
without  pigeon-pie  would  be — an  incomplete  arrange- 
ment." 

"  Well,  Spencer,  my  dear  boy,  as  you  are  posted,  please 
receive  my  carte  blanche  to  order  all  the  '  regular  things,' 
and  everything  else  that  is  comfortable." 

Young  Spencer  nodded  and  laughed;  took  from  the 
General's  hand  a  card  and  a  pencil,  and  made  out  a  liberal 
list  which  he  handed  to  the  waiter,  saying : 

«  See  that  all  these  articles  are  put  into  clean  hampers, 
and  stowed  away  in  the  boxes  of  the  General's  barouche." 

The  man  left  the  room  with  the  list,  and  returned  with 
the  breakfast  tray. 

And  the  family  party  and  their  visitors  sat  down  to 
the  table. 

Anna  presided. 

tt  Where  is  my  god-son  ?  "  inquired  the  General,  discon- 
tented at  the  absence  of  his  favorite. 

"  He  had  his  breakfast  in  my  room,  an  hour  ago,  so  that 
he  might  be  got  ready  to  go  with  us,"  said  Drusilla. 

«  Ah !  yes,  well,  I  suppose  under  the  circumstances  it 
was  as  well,"  admitted  the  General. 

Before  they  had  done  breakfast,  however,  Master 
Lenny  was  led  in  by  his  nurse. 

He  was  resplendent  in  holiday  attire  and  in  the  antici- 
pation of  some  unknown  glory  that  had  been  promised 
him,  and  for  wh*ch  he  saw  great  preparations  going  for- 
ward, and  which  he  called  in  his  baby  babble  "  doin' 
Dubby." 

"  Doin'  Dubby,  untie  dranpa  !  Lenny  doin'  Dubby,  hee 
hos  wun,"  he  said,  running  up  to  his  godfather. 

"  Lenny  is  going  to  the  Derby  to  see  the  horses  run,  is 
he  ?  But  Lenny  will  be  the  winning  horse,  I'll  bet,"  said 
the  General,taking  the  little  fellow  up  on  his  knee.  "  Gen- 
tlemen," he  added,  turning  to  his  young  visitors,  "  let  me 


THE  DERBY.  13T 

introduce  you  to  Master  Leonard  Lyon,  the  latest  repre- 
sentative of  old  Leonard  Lyon,  who " 

« «  Came  over  with  the  Conqueror,' "  suggested  Mr. 
Tredegar. 

"  Who  lived  here  long  before  the  Conqueror  was  born,** 
concluded  the  General,  quietly.  "  Leonard,  my  boy,  bow 
to  the  gentlemen,  and  ask  them  how  they  do,  and  say 
that  you  hope  they  are  well." 

"  Hope. — Do  Dubby"  said  Lenny,  who  could  not  con- 
nect his  sentences  very  well  as  yet,  holding  out  his? 
chubby  hand  to  Mr.  Spencer,  who  was  nearest. 

"  Grandpa,  we  will  leave  Lenny  to  help  you  entertain 
your  friends  while  we  put  on  our  bonnets  and  mantles," 
said  Anna,  rising  from  the  table,  followed  by  Drusilla. 

"  And  so  Master  Leonard  is  going  to  the  Derby  ?  He 
is  beginning  life  early, — he  is  a  very  fast  young  gentle- 
man," said  Mr.  Tredegar,  taking  the  child  upon  his  knee. 

"  Lenny  doin'  Dubby — hee  hos  wun,"  was  the  stereo- 
typed answer  of  the  boy. 

But  he  was  taken  from  one  by  the  other,  and  prattled 
sociably  to  all  until  the  return  of  the  ladies  dressed  for 
their  drive. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Spencer,  you  are  not  in  earnest  about  these' 
veils  ?  I  am  not  to  decorate  Dick's  and  grandpa's  hats- 
with  them,  am  I  ?  "  laughed  Anna,  lif  ting  the  light  cloud- 
like  pile  of  barege. 

"  Oh,  no ;  not  just  yet !  not  until  they  shall  be  required! 
It  has  ceased  drizzling,  but  the  ground  is  still  too  damp' 
for  dust.  They  can  be  rolled  up  and  put  into  their 
pockets  until  wanted." 

"  Here,  grandpa,  here  is  yours,"  said  Anna,  rolling  up 
the  gray  veil  lightly,  and  handing  it. 

"  No,  thank  you,  my  dear.  Dust  or  no  dust,  I  am  not 
going  to  wear  a  veil.  I  would  just  as  soon  wear  a  crino- 
line ! " 

"  Put  it  in  your  own  pocket,  my  dear  Mrs.  Hammond, 
and  have  it  ready  for  him  when  he  will  want  it.  He  will 
be  glad  enough  to  get  it  by-and-by,"  said  Francis  Trede- 
gar. 

Anna  took  his  advice. 

"  And  now  are  we  all  quite  ready  ?  "  inquired  the  Gen- 
eral. 


138  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

«*  Quite,"  answered  everybody  else. 

"Then,  come!" 

And  he  took  Brasilia's  hand,  and  drew  it  within  his 
arm  and  led  the  way  down-stairs. 

A  large,  open  barouche,  with  a  fine  pair  of  horses,  stood 
waiting  the  General's  family.  A  jaunty  gig  with  a  spirited 
horse  awaited  the  two  young  gentlemen. 

Drusilla  and  Anna  were  handed  into  the  back  seat. 
The  General  sat  hi  front,  and  by  his  side  sat  Pina  with  little 
Lenny.  Dick  perched  himself  up  beside  the  driver. 
Jacob  rode  behind.  The  two  young  men  were  in  their  gig. 

The  party  started — the  General's  barouche  taking  the 
lead. 

The  drizzling  rain  had  ceased  and  the  clouds  were  dis- 
persing before  a  light  wind. 

The  streets  of  London,  always  crowded,  were  now 
thronged ;  but  with  this  difference  also, — that  nine-tenths 
of  the  people's  faces  and  the  horses'  heads  were  turned  hi 
one  direction,  and  everybody,— man,  woman,  and  child, 
saint  and  sinner, — was  becoming  more  and  more  intoxicat- 
ed ;  and  not  with  spirituous  or  fermented  liquors,  but  with 
the  Derby  Day.  Crowded  carriages  of  all  descriptions, 
saddle-horses,  donkeys,  and  foot-passengers  of  all  ranks 
and  sexes,  thronged  the  streets ;  and  talk  and  laughter, 
calls  and  shouts  resounded  through  the  air.  It  looked  as 
if  London  were  suddenly  being  evacuated  by  its  whole 
population,  and  the  people  were  making  a  merry  joke  of 
the  matter.  And  all  were  pouring  towards  the  south- 
western suburb. 

In  such  a  throng  the  progress  of  our  party  was  necessa- 
:rily  very  slow,  yet  with  none  of  the  tedium  of  a  slow  prog- 
:ress.  The  great  crowd  of  people  and  of  vehicles  going  all 
one  way ;  the  variety  of  individuals  and  characters  ;  the 
total  abandonment  of  all  reserve ;  the  bailings  and  the 
chaffings ;  the  jests  and  the  snatches  of  song ;  the  gro- 
tesque decorations  of  some  of  the  horses  and  carriages, 
and  even  of  some  of  the  people ;  the  perfect  novelty  of  the 
scene  ;  and  the  exhilaration  of  all  animated  creatures  that 
composed  it,  made  every  step  of  the  progress  charming  to 
the  unaccustomed  minds  and  eyes  of  our  new-comers. 

Drusilla  and  Anna  were  delighted.  Little  Lenny 
shouted.  Pina  was  not  a  whit  behind  them  in  her  ec- 


THE  DERBY.  130 

stasies.  Old  General  Lyon's  eyes  twinkled  and  lips 
smiled,  and  sometimes  he  broke  into  a  good  hearty  laugh. 
As  for  Dick,  the  oldest  Derby  goer  on  the  road  could  not 
have  got  ahead  of  him  in  bandying  back  the  jokes  that- 
were  bandied  at  him  on  the  way.  Only  that  Jacob,  hang- 
ing on  behind,  stared  with  "  all  his  eyes,"  and  looked  as 
if  he  thought  he  was  enjoying  a  pleasant  sort  of  night- 
mare. 

"  I  say,  you  jolly  old  howl  (owl),"  called  a  cockney 
from  a  neighboring  carriage  to  General  Lyon,  "  where  did 
you  get  that  gorilla  you've  got  perched  up  behind  there, 
heh?" 

"  From  a  country  where  they  muzzle  monkeys  some- 
times," retorted  Dick,  answering  for  the  General. 

So  it  went  on. 

"  But  this  is  nothing  at  all  to  what  it  will  be  when  we 
are  out  of  London  and  fairly  on  to  the  Epsom  road,"1 
shouted  Henry  Spencer  from  his  gig  behind. 

"  I  never  saw  the  Carnival  at  Rome ;  but  I  should 
think  it  was  not  very  unlike  this,"  said  the  General. 

"  This  is  the  Carnival  of  London  !  Old  Rome  has  its 
Saturnalia  ;  modern  Rome  has  its  Carnival ;  America  ha» 
her  Independence  Day ;  but  England  has  her  Derby , 
equal  to  all  these  others  rolled  into  one,"  said  Francis 
Tredegar. 

"  If  this  is  only  the  beginning  it  is  worth  crossing  the 
Atlantic  to  see — not  the  Derby  race  only,  but  the  Derby 
Day ! "  said  the  General. 

**  Only  wait  till  you  get  to  Epsom  !  "  exclaimed  Henry 
Spencer. 

Once  fairly  upon  the  Epsom  road,  our  friends  found  it 
as  their  guests  had  predicted.  The  crowd,  great  as  it  had 
been  before,  was  even  greater  now.  And  it  thickened 
with  every  mile ;  the  -numbers  of  passengers  increasing 
twofold,  tenfold,  a  hundred-fold,  as  they  approached  the 
bourne  of  their  journey. 

The  road  was  as  one  vast  river  of  human  beings  and 
brute  creatures,  pouring  its  multitudes  towards  Epsom. 
And  every  cross  country  road  was  as  a  tributary  stream 
helping  to  swell  the  flood. 

Every  description  of  wheeled  vehicles  known  to  the 
civilized  world — broughams,  barouches,  landaus,  chaises, 


140  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"buggies,  sulkies,  gigs,  rockaways,  carryalls,  omnibuses, 
stages,  brakes,  carts,  drags,  wagons,  jaunting  cars,  in  an 
endless  number  and  variety,  and  drawn  by  every  avail- 
.able  species  of  quadrupeds — horses,  mules,  donkeys,  goats, 
dogs,  oxen — thronged  and  crushed  and  pressed  together 
for  miles  and  miles  behind  and  before  on  the  main  road  and 
up  and  down  every  branch  road — crowding  toward  Epsom. 

In  this  vast,  moving  mixed  multitude  the  only  saving 
feature  was  this,  that  they  were  all  moving  the  same  way, 
and  all,  or  nearly  all,  in  high,  good  humor. 

Pressed  on  ail  sides  as  they  were — behind,  before,  on 
the  right  and  on  the  left,  our  friends  in  the  barouche  and 
their  young  guests  in  the  gig,  managed  to  keep  together  ; 
— sometimes  brought  to  a  standstill,  sometimes  moving 
on  at  the  rate  of  an  inch  a  minute. 

"  Now  you  understand  why  it  was  necessary  to  start  so 
early,  though  Epsom  is  but  fourteen  miles  from  London, 
and  though  the  great  race  does  not  come  off  before  two 
o'clock,"  called  out  young  Spencer. 

M  Yes ;  and  I  begin  to  see  the  wisdom  of  those  who 
went  down  to  Epsom  last  night  to  avoid  all  this,"  an- 
swered the  general. 

"  Ah,  but  they  were  either  old  stagers  who  had  experi- 
enced this  sort  of  thing  many  times  before,  or  else  in- 
dividuals who  had  some  deep  stake  in  the  races  to  come 
off  to-day.  For  my  own  part,  I  enjoy  the  going  and  re- 
turning— the  '  road,'  hi  short,  quite  as  much  as  anything 
else  appertaining  to  the  great  Derby  Day." 

"  It  is  a  novel  and  interesting  sight,  in  its  contrasts  if 
in  nothing  else,"  replied  the  General,  glancing  from  the 
handsome  barouche  decorated  with  a  duke's  coronet 
painted  on  its  panels,  and  occupied  by  an  aristocratic 
party  of  stately  men  and  elegant  women,  in  splendid  ap- 
parel, that  crowded  him  on  the  right — to  the  old  dilap- 
idated omnibus,  filled  within  and  without  with  the  ragged 
refuse  of  the  London  streets  and  alleys,  which  pressed 
him  on  the  left. 

But  truth  to  tell,  the  ragamuffins  seemed  the  merrier, 
if  not  the  richer  party  of  the  two. 

And  many  jests  flew  over  General  Lyon's  head  between 
the  Bohemians  in  the  old  omnibus  and  a  young  member 
of  the  ducal  family  who  occupied  a  seat  on  the  box  be- 


THE  DERBY.  141 

side  the  coachman.  For  that  one  day  "  free-born  Brit- 
ons "  of  every  rank  enjoyed  something  like  liberty  and 
equality — not  to  say  unbridled  license. 

"  Hey  day  !  What's  the  matter  now  ?  "  exclaimed  the- 
General,  as  the  whole  immense  march,  with  much  rear- 
ing and  plunging  of  quadrupeds,  came  to  a  dead  halt. 

"  There's  a  lock  at  the  turnpike  gate,  sir,"  called  out  a 
vagrant  from  the  old  'bus. 

"  A  lock  on  the  toll-gate !  It's  a  shame,"  replied  the 
innocent  old  gentleman;  "the  gate  should  never  be 
locked  in  the  daytime,  and  most  especially  on  such  a  day 
as  this,  when  they  must  keep  such  a  vast  multitude  of 
people  waiting  while  they  unlock  it." 

This  speech  was  greeted  by  a  burst  of  ironical  applause 
from  all  the  occupants  of  the  old  omnibus,  as  well  as  from 
all  others  who  heard  it.  They  laughed  at  the  speaker  and 
chaffed  him. 

"  You  change  all  that  when  you  get  into  parliament," 
sang  out  one. 

"I  say!  what's  your  name,  you  jolly  old  soul  ?  Is  it 
old  King  Cole  ?  "  inquired  another. 

Then  all  in  the  old  omnibus  sang  out  together : 

"  Old  King  Cole  was  a  jolly  old  soul, 

And  a  jolly  old  soul  was  he — 
He  called  for  his  bottle,  and  he  called  for  his  bowl, 

And  he  called  for  his  comrades  three  !  " 

"  Dick,  what  the  deuce  have  I  said  wrong  ?  What  do 
they  mean  ?  "  inquired  the  General,  much  annoyed  at  find- 
ing himself  the  center  of  observation. 

"  You  have  said  nothing  wrong,  and  they  mean  nothing 
offensive.  It  is  the  Derby  Day  !  That  accounts  for  all, 
don't  you  see  ?  "  answered  Dick,  laughing. 

"  But  about  the  lock.  They  were  chaffing  me  about 
thatr 

"  Oh,  you  know  that  there  is  now  more  than  one  lock  at 
every  turnpike  gate.  There  is  the  legitimate  lock  under 
the  charge  of  the  keeper ;  and  there  is  a  lock  of  inter- 
locked carriage  wheels,  reaching,  perhaps,  for  ten  miles* 
along  the  road." 

"  I  knew  once  a  lock  of  fourteen  miles  long,  all  caused 
by  an  ill  conditioned  fellow  in  a  brougham,  who  stopped 


142  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

the  way  at  the  toll-gate  for  twenty  minutes,  disputing 
about  his  change,"  said  the  young  gentleman  who  was 
seated  beside  the  coachman  on  the  right-hand  carriage ; 
for  on  this  latitudinarian  day  English  reserve  was  laid 
aside,  and  strangers  spoke  together  as  familiar  friends. 

But  the  General's  fine  barouche  was  the  center  of  obser- 
vation just  now,  and  all  on  account  of  the  General's 
*'  gorilla  footman,"  as  the  Bohemians  called  young  Jacob. 

Unluckily  for  his  peace  to-day,  Jacob,  with  one  of  the 
best  hearts  in  the  world,  and  a  tolerably  good  brain,  pos- 
sessed all  the  peculiar  features  of  his  race.  He  had  the 
low,  receding  forehead,  broad,  flat  nose,  wide,  full  lips,  and 
small,  retiring  chin,  jet  black  skin,  and  crisp,  woolly  hair 
of  the  pure  Guinea  negro — all  of  which  was  likely  to 
render  him  an  object  of  great  amusement  to  the  malicious 
crowd,  and  annoyance  to  his  master  and  friends. 

"  I  say,  old  cove,  you  show  it  free  now,  like  the  circus 
men  do  the  clowns  when  they  go  in  procession  ;  but  how 
much  are  you  going  to  charge  a  head  to  see  it  when  you 
get  it  in  a  booth  on  Epsom  Heath  ?  "  called  out  one. 

"  Marster  !  "  cried  Jacob,  half  crying  and  ready  to  swear 
— "  Marster  !  only  let  me,  and  I'll  jump  down  and  lick  the 
lot  of  'em  !  " 

"  Oh,  I  say,  fellows,  it  can  talk  !  "  cried  another. 

"  Let  me  at  'em  !  "  begged  Jacob. 

"Nonsense,  my  boy!  You'd  get  trampled  to  death 
under  the  horses'  feet  before  you  could  grapple  with  any 
of  them.  They  mean  no  harm.  It  is  the  Derby  Day. 
Give  them  back  as  good  as  they  send." 

"  But  I  haven't  got  it  in  me,"  sobbed  Jake. 

«  Oh  !  yes  you  have.     Let  'em  have  it ! " 

But  Jake's  idea  of  "  letting  'em  have  it"  was  of  a  more 
substantial  sort  than  mere  words.  Stooping  down,  he 
armed  himself  with  a  couple  of  ale  bottles,  and  flourish- 
ing one  in  each  hand,  he  threatened  one  and  all  of  his 
aggressors. 

"  Eh !  eh  !  is  it  growing  vicious  ?  "  called  out  some  one 
with  a  shout  of  laughter. 

The  ale  bottle  flew  from  Jake's  right  hand  and  knocked 
jff  the  hat  of  the  speaker. 

"  Oh,  I  say !  look  here !  none  of  that  now,  you  know ! 
that's  carrying  things  a  little  too  far  even  for  the  Derby 


THE  DERBY.  143 

Day !  "  exclaimed  the  bare-headed  individual,  groping  in 
vain  for  his  hat,  but  keeping  his  good  humor. 

"  Oh !  see  here,  governor !  Here's  your  ape  getting 
dangerous !  chain  it  hup  before  it  'urts  some  un !  "  sang 
out  another. 

Away  flew  the  other  ale  bottle  and  struck  this  coun- 
sellor in  the  chest  and  knocked  him  heels  over  head. 

"  Hi !  ho !  here  !  where's  the  police  !  "  called  out  a  half 
score  of  voices. 

But  the  police  were  not  forthcoming,  and  the  floored 
man  picked  himself  up,  laughing  merrily  and  saying: 
good-humoredly  : 

"  Boys,  we're  getting  the  worst  of  it !  Better  let  the 
gorilla  alone ! " 

But  the  General  turned  to  his  coachman,  frowning. 

"Jacob.  I  am  ashamed  of  you !  Here's  a  set  of  poor 
fellows  out  for  their  rare  holiday  chaffing  you  a  little 
with  harmless  words,  and  you  answer  them  with  hard 
blows ! " 

"  You  told  me  to  « let  'em  have  it,'  "  muttered  Jake. 

"  But  not  in  blows  ;  in  icords,  you  stupid  fellow ! " 

"  I  couldn't  answer  'em  so." 

"  But  suppose  they  retorted  in  kind  ?  They  can  throw 
missiles  as  well  as  you  can." 

"  They  are  welkim  !  "  grumbled  Jake. 

"What,  and  hurt  and  maybe  kill  the  ladies?  Jake 
I'm  more  ashamed  of  you  than  ever." 

A  commotion  in  the  crowd  ahead,  a  gradual  unloosen- 
ing of  the  lock  of  wheels,  warned  our  travelers  that  the 
way  was  clear,  and  carriages  of  all  sorts  moved  on,  at 
first  slowly,  and  then  as  the  throng  thinned  more  rapidly, 
until  it  began  to  look  like  the  multitudinous  race  of  fast 
trotting  horses  in  harness  on  the  Bloomingdale  Road. 

And  the  quiet  "  chaffing"  became  hilarious  shouting  as- 
one  after  another  of  fast  drivers  distanced  all  competitors. 
And  now  indeed  the  Derby  dust  arose  in  clouds  like  the 
sirocco  of  the  desert  until  every  man  and  mother's  son 
had  to  put  on  a  veil. 

Old  General  Lyon  resisted  the  fate  as  long  as  he  could, 
until,  as  Harry  Spencer  had  predicted,  his  eyes,  ears 
nostrils  and  bronchial  tubes  were  all  so  much  obstructed 
that  he  was  nearly  blinded,  deafened,  suffocated  and 


144  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

overwhelmed.  Then  he  let  Anna  dust  off  his  face  and 
.head  with  an  extra  pocket-handkerchief,  and  tie  a  gray 
veil  about  his  hat,  as  they  drove  on. 

"  I  wish  some  sort  of  a  veil  could  be  contrived  to  pro- 
^tect  these  hedges,"  said  Anna,  pointing  to  the  boundaries 
of  the  road  on  the  right  and  left.  "  It  is  a  sin  to  cover 
these  lovely  green  hedges  with  a  thick  coat  of  dust.  But, 
oh,  grandpa  !  look,  there's  poetry  for  you !  look  at  that 
sign ! " 

The  old  gentleman  turned  and  smiled  to  see  a  rural 
looking  wayside  inn,  embowered  in  creeping  vines  and 
running  roses,  and  overshadowed  by  trees,  and  bearing 
.the  inscription  in  two  lines  of  rhyme : 

"  Good  Beer 
Sold  Here." 

A  little  group  of  foot  passengers  to  the  Derby  were  sit- 
ting on  a  bench  under  a  spreading  tree,  testing  the  quali- 
ties of  the  said  "  good  beer." 

This  and  many  other  simple  little  way  sidescenes,  illus- 
trative of  English  rural  roadside  life,  which  the  occasional 
opening  of  the  crowd  allowed  them  to  catch  a  glimpse  of, 
remained  as  pleasant  pictures  in  the  gallery  of  memory  to 
.contemplate  hi  after-days. 

They  were  now  ascending  a  graduated  hill ;  when  they 
reached  its  summit  they  were  comparatively  free  from 
-the  crowd.  The  carriages  before  them  had  gone  rapidly 
on  downward ;  the  carriages  behind  them  were  coming 
slowly  up. 

"  Order  your  coachman  to  draw  up  here,  General.  We 
are  near  Epsom,  and  from  this  rising  ground,  by  standing 
up  in  your  carriage  and  using  your  field-glass,  you  may 
take  a  bird's-eye  view  of  Epsom  Hill  and  Heath,  with  its 
surroundings,"  said  Mr.  Tredegar,  adding  example  to  pre- 
cept by  stopping  his  own  horse. 

The  General  gave  orders  in  accordance  with  this  advice, 
and  then  mounted  on  his  seat,  and  levelled  his  field-glass. 

"Good  Heavens!"  he  exclaimed,  in  his  unbounded 
amazement. 

Under  his  eyes  lay  a  scene  of  its  kind  not  to  be  equalled 
in  this  world. 


THE  DERBY.  145 

There  were  from  four  to  five  hundred  thousand  people 
of  all  ranks,  sexes,  ages,  and  conditions, — some  with  their 
horses,  carriages,  and  liveried  servants  ;  others  with  their 
donkey-carts,  and  tents,  and  wares  for  sale  ;  others  again 
with  only  their  own  weary  limbs  and  haggard  faces,  and 
fluttering  rags, — all  gathered  together  on  the  hill  and 
heath  of  Epsom,  or  pressing  thither  by  every  highway  lead- 
ing from  every  point  of  the  compass. 

"  I  never  expected  to  see  such  a  crowd  this  side  of  the 
Judgment-day  !  "  said  General  Lyon,  as  he  resigned  the 
glass  to  Anna  and  assisted  her  to  rise  on  the  seat. 

Anna  gazed  long  and  thoughtfully  at  the  wonderful 
scene,  and  then  she  said : 

"  But  it  reminds  one  of  the  Judgment-day  in  something 
else  beside  its  great  crowd — here,  as  on  that  coming  day, 
saint  and  sinner,  prince  and  beggar  stand  together  as  they 
will  stand  there !  It  is  an  exciting  and  a  depressing  scene, 
grandpa,"  she  said,  as  she  restored  the  glass  and  resumed 
her  seat. 

Drusilla  next  arose  to  take  a  view.  And  she  was  no 
doubt  as  deeply  impressed  by  the  vastness  of  the  multitude 
assembled  before  her  as  her  uncle  and  cousin  had  been, 
but  her  chief  thought  was  still, 

"  How  shall  I  ever  be  able  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  my 
Alick  in  such  a  boundless  crowd  as  this  ?  " 

Dick  was  standing  by  her  side,  using  his  own  field- 
glass. 

"  Worth  crossing  the  ocean  to  see,  is  it  not,  Drusa  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Yes  ;  even  though  we  know  little-  of  horses,  and  less 
of  races,  and  least  of  all  which  is  likely  to  win  the  Derby." 

" '  Fairy  Queen,'  is  the  favorite,  I  believe." 

"  What  did  you  say,  Dick  ?  " 

"  I  say  Mr.  Chisholm  Cheke's  *  Fairy  Queen'  is  the 
favorite ! " 

«  What  favorite  ?    Whose  favorite  ?  " 

"Tut,  Drusa!  Why  the  favorite  of  the  turf,  of  the 
stables,  and  of  the  betting  men !  The  horse  upon  whose 
success  the  most  money  is  staked,  the  one  that  is  expected 
to  win  the  Derby !  " 

"  But  if  everybody  knows  which  horse  is  likely  to  win 
the  Derby,  why  does  any  one  ever  bet  on  any  other  ?  " 


146  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Ah !  that  I  can't  tell,"  said  Dick,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders. "  Only  this, — the  favorite  does  not  always  win,  in 
fact  seldom  does,  I  think  ;  it  is  generally  some  dark  horse 
that  wins  the  race." 

"  Dark  horse  ?  Do  the  dark  ones  run  better  than  the 
light  ones?" 

"  Oh,  Drusa,  what  a  novice  you  are,  my  child  !  I  don't 
mean  a  dark-colored  horse  ;  I  mean  a  horse  kept  dark, 
perdu,  in  retirement,  that  nobody  talks  about  or  hears 
about,  except  certain  knowing  ones." 

"  And  does  the  dark  horse  always  win  ?  " 

"  No,  not  always,  but  often  ;  sometimes  some  inter- 
mediate, honest  horse,  that  is  neither  bragged  about  on 
the  one  hand,  nor  *  kept  dark  '  on  the  other,  surprises 
everybody  by  winning  the  race,  and  also  occasionally  the 
favorite  wins." 

u  Well,  we  will  not  bet ;  we  are  all  conscientiously  op- 
posed to  betting  ;  but  if  we  were  not,  we  should  stake 
our  money  upon  the  dark  horse.  But  how  would  we 
know  him  ?  " 

"  We  shouldn't  know  him  at  all ;  none  but  the  few  in 
the  secret  would  know  him." 

"  Come,  come,  my  children,  we  are  being  left  behind," 
said  the  General,  impatiently. 

"  And  I  do  not  care  much  for  the  winning  horse,  and 
that  is  the  truth.  But  I  care  a  great  deal  for  the  human 
interest  in  this  vast  scene  !  Will  the  Derby  ever  go 
down  and  pass  away,  like  the  other  glories  of  this  world  ? 
And  will  we  say  to  our  great  grandchildren  in  the  Derby 
of  their  days  :  '  Ah,  you  should  have  seen  the  Derby  as 
it  was  when  we  were  young ! '  Shall  we  talk  so  to  our 
descendants,  Dick  ?  " 

"  Goodness  knows  !  The  Derby  may  continue  to  in- 
crease in  importance  ;  it  ought  to  do  so ;  I  hope  it  may," 
replied  Dick,  as  he  resumed  his  seat. 

Jacob  started  his  horses  and  they  drove  down  the  hill 
at  a  very  rapid  rate. 

On  each  side  of  the  road  were  now  to  be  seen  the 
dustbrown  tents  of  the  gypsy  wanderers  ;  the  decorated 
booths  of  the  showmen ;  the  tempting  fruit-stalls  of  the 
costermongers  ;  and  among  them  all,  groups  of  country 
people  and  knots  of  cockneys,  and  all  the  heterogeneous 


THE  GIPSIES.  147 

assembly  of  bipeds  and  quadrupeds  that  on  the  Derby 
Day  infest  the  neighborhood  of  Epsom. 

Slowly  making  their  way  through  all  these,  our  party 
reached  and  passed  the  first  barrier  (for  Epsom  Heath  is 
divided  off  into  circles,  the  entrance  to  each  succeeding  one 
towards  the  hill  or  the  Grand  Stand,  commanding  a 
higher  and  higher  price). 

Our  friends  found  themselves  upon  the  heath,  that 
was  occupied  by  very  much  the  same  sort  of  crowd  which 
had  obstructed  the  roads  leading  hither.  It  was  dotted 
all  over  by  gipsies'  tents,  fruit-stalls,  refreshment-stands, 
costermongers'  carts,  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth,  and  ani- 
mated by  idlers,  loafers,  peddlers,  ballad-singers,  image- 
boys,  fortune-tellers,  "  confidence "  men,  and  women, 
thieves,  gamblers,  and,  hi  short,  every  variety  of  the 
lower  order  of  human  nature. 

Passing  through  all  these — passing  barrier  after  bar- 
rier, and  circle  after  circle,  our  party  at  last  found  them- 
selves upon  the  fine  breezy  and  commanding  hill,  which 
was  comparatively  free  from  the  crowd,  and  occupied 
only  by  the  carriages  of  the  nobility  and  gentry,  filled 
with  fair  women  and  well-behaved  men. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    GIPSIES. 

"  Theirs  is  the  deep  lore  of  the  olden  time, 
And  in  it  are  fine  mysteries  of  the  stars 
Solved  with  a  cunning  wisdom,  and  strange  thoughts, 
Half  prophecy,  half  poetry,  and  dreams 
Clearer  than  truth,  and  speculations  wild 
That  touched  the  secrets  of  your  very  soul/' 

THE  General  and  his  friends  selected  the  best  front 
sites  that  were  left  vacant,  and  had  their  carriages  turned 
around  and  the  horses  taken  from  them  and  led  away  to 
distant  stalls  and  fodder. 

Then  all  reseated  themselves  and  looked  around  them. 

What  a  sight !  what  a  crowd !  what  a  turmoil !  Far 
as  the  eye  could  reach  on  every  side  a  turbulent  sea  of 
humanity  ! 

Where  could  the  people  all  have  sprung  from  ?    Had 


148  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

London  emptied  itself  of  its  population  upon  Epsom 
Heath  ?  Had  Paris,  St.  Petersburg  and  all  the  great  con- 
tinental cities  contributed  their  thousands  ?  Had  earth 
given  up  her  dead  and  ocean  her  prey  to  swell  this  crowd  ? 

At  first,  as  I  said,  all  seemed  but  a  turbulent  sea  of 
human  beings ;  but  gradually  individual  images  came 
out  of  the  confusion. 

Most  prominent  among  these  was  the  Grand  Stand,  an 
elevated  and  railed  platform  or  gallery  where  the  gam- 
blers in  horseflesh  congregated  to  make  up  their  betting- 
books  and  watch  the  race. 

And  most  interesting,  especially  to  ladies,  was  the 
Royal  Box,  with  its  cushioned  seats,  surmounted  by  its 
crown  and  canopy  of  state  all  in  burning  scarlet  and  gold. 
Neither  the  queen  nor  any  of  the  princesses  occupied  the 
Royal  Box ;  only  three  or  four  of  the  princes,  with  their 
lords  in  waiting,  were  present. 

Yet  toward  that  box  many  field-glasses  were  leveled — 
Anna's  among  the  rest,  for — 

"  A  substitute  shines  brightly  as  a  king, 
Until  a  king  be  by." 

And  failing  the  queen's  presence,  the  queen's  sons  were 
objects  of  absorbing  interest. 

"  Neither  Victoria  nor  any  of  the  princesses  are  here," 
said  Anna,  lowering  her  glass  with  a  look  of  disappoint- 
ment. 

"  The  queen  nor  the  princesses  ever  come  to  the  Derby. 
You  may  see  them  at  the  Ascot  Races,  however,  which 
are  considered  more  aristocratic,  though  very  much  less 
famous  and  popular  than  these,"  replied  Mr.  Spencer,  who 
had  left  his  seat  in  the  gig  to  come  and  stand  beside  Gen- 
eral Lyon's  barouche  and  talk  to  the  young  people. 

Anna  next  criticized  the  splendid  dresses  of  the  ladies 
who  filled  the  open  carriages  on  this  hill ;  and  for  no 
occasion  do  ladies  dress  more  splendidly  than  for  the 
Derby  Day. 

"  Good  gracious !  Half  the  milliners  and  jewelers' 
establishments  in  London  and  Paris  must  be  emptied  of 
their  contents,"  she  exclaimed,  as  her  eyes  roved  over 
the  various  and  dazzling  display. 

Out  from  the  seething  mass  of  humanity  on  the  heath 


THE  GIPSIES.  149 

below  came  other  individual  pictures.  Here  and  there  a 
poor  little  pale,  hollow-cheeked  boy  creeping  feebly  along 
and  peering  hungrily  about  for  stray  crusts  and  bones, 
or  apple  parings,  and  orange  peel,  dropped  from  the 
luncheon  hamper  of  some  prosperous  feeder ;  now  and 
then  some  grandly  beautiful  woman  whose  flaunting  dress 
and  insolent  air  proclaimed  her  a  very  far  fallen  angel ; 
here  and  there  some  sunny-eyed  child  of  Italy  picking  up 
a  few  pennies  by  singing  the  "  wild  songs  of  his  dear 
native  land,"  and  everywhere  a  leather- visaged  gipsy 
crone  trying  to  improve  her  own  fortunes  by  telling  other 
people's  ;  everywhere  professors  of  all  sorts  of  irregular 
arts  and  sciences ;  everywhere  traders  in  all  kinds  of  con- 
traband goods  and  chattels;  and  everywhere  were  the 
« efficient  police  force  "  trying  very  successfully  not  to 
keep  order ;  trying  very  hard  not  to  interfere  with  the 
lawful  or  unlawful  practices  of  the  poor,  on  this  one 
gracious  day  of  their  license  and  their  happiness.  A  pick- 
pocket, if  detected,  would  be  arrested,  of  course ;  but  as 
for  the  rest,  gipsies  might  tell  fortunes,  and  beggars  beg, 
and  starving  little  children  pilfer,  with  none  to  punish 
them  less  merciful  than  the  All- Father. 

There  was  so  much  to  see !  such  an  infinite  variety  of 
life  !  The  Derby  race,  though  the  greatest  feature  of  the 
day,  was  not  a  thousandth  part  of  the  sights.  If  no  race 
had  come  off,  the  assembly  itself  was  well  worth  coming 
to  see,  and  sitting  through  a  whole  day  to  study. 

Anna,  Brasilia  and  General  Lyon,  were  well  content 
to  occupy  their  seats  and  spend  their  time  in  calmly  con- 
templating the  scene  before  them. 

But  the  three  young  men,  Dick,  Spencer  and  Tredegar, 
wished  to  mingle  with  the  active  life  below,  and  so,  msk- 
ing  an  excuse  to  go  and  get  cards  of  the  race  they  bowed 
and  left  the  hill  and  soon  disappeared  in  the  crowd  on 
the  heath. 

Many  other  gentlemen  who  were  in  attendance  upon 
the  ladies  on  the  hill,  also  left  their  carriages  and  went 
down  ;  others  who  had  been  down  were  now  coming  up  ; 
— so  that  there  was  a  continual  moving  about  of  foot- 
passengers. 

"  Look,  look,  Drusilla  !  there  is  a  gipsy  telling  fortunes 
at  that  carriage  next  but  one  to  us,  on  the  left.  Grandpa, 


150  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

when  she  has  finished  there,  do  beckon  her  to  come  here  I  * 
eagerly  exclaimed  Anna. 

"  Nonsense,  my  child  !  you  never  want  the  crone  to 
tell  your  fortune." 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  I  do  indeed  !  "  exclaimed  Anna,  excit- 
edly. 

u  Tut,  tut !  you  don't  believe  in  such  tomfoolery  !  " 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  in  it  of  course  ;  but  I  want  to  hear 
what  the  gipsy  will  have  to  say  to  me  for  all  that.  Do 
watch  her,  grandpa ;  and,  as  soon  as  she  has  done  with 
those  ladies  call  her  here.  Consider,  I  never  saw  a  gipsy 
except  upon  the  stage — never  saw  a  real  gipsy  in  my  life 
before,  and  may  never  have  a  chance  of  seeing  one  again. 
Oh,  do  call  her  here,  grandpa,  as  soon  as  she  is  at  liberty  ! " 

"Well,  well,  my  dear,  you  have  the  right  to  make  a 
goose  of  yourself  if  you  please,  and  I  will  help  you  to  do 
so.  I  will  beckon  her  presently." 

"  Ah,  there's  Dick  come  back !  Dick,  come  here,  I  want 
you  !  "  called  Anna. 

And  Dick,  who  had  left  his  companions  among  their  bet- 
ting friends  and  returned  to  the  hill  alone,  now  came  up 
to  the  carriage. 

"Dick,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come  back  !  There's  a  gipsy 
telling  fortunes  at  that  carriage — I  want  you  to  bring  her 
here  to  tell  ours." 

"  Absurdity,  Anna  dear !  you  cannot  mean  to  counte- 
nance such  impostors  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Dick,  that  is  so  uncharitable !  How  do  you  know 
they  are  impostors  ?  How  do  you  know  but  that  they 
believe  in  their  own  art  ?  " 

"  Do  you  believe  in  it  ?  " 

"  Xo ;  but  I  want  to  have  some  fun  out  of  the  gipsy." 

"  Very  will ;  I  consent  provided  it  is  meant  in  jest  and 
not  in  earnest." 

"  And  here,  Dick,  let  us  put  the  gipsy's  powers  to  a  test. 
You  come  in  and  sit  down  by  me — then  take  little  Lenny 
in  your  arms  and  play  papa.  Little  Lenny  being  fair  and 
flaxen-haired  and  blue-eyed,  with  all  the  Lyon  features, 
is  much  more  like  me  than  like  his  own  mother  whom  in 
truth  he  does  not  at  all  resemble,  and  he  will  easily  be 
taken  for  ours.  And  the  more  easily  because  you  and  I 
look  as  if  we  had  reached  years  of  discretion,  while  Dru- 


THE  GIPSIES.  151 

silla  seems  but  a  child.    Let  us  play  a  trick  on  the  gipsy, 
and  ask  her  to  foretell  our  boy's  future." 

«  Ha !  ha !  ha  !  that  will  be  good  !  " 

Not  one  word  of  the  conversation  since  Dick's  return 
did  Drusilla  hear — with  her  field-glass  raised  to  her  eyes,  . 
she  was  gazing  at  a  particular  point  on  the  Grand  Stand  ; 
for,  even  in  that  boundless  crowd,  her  love  had  discovered 
her  Alick — but,  ah,  discovered  him  among  the  desperate 
gamblers  of  the  betting  ring  ! 

She  was  blind  and  deaf  to  everything  else. 

Meanwhile  the  gipsy  had  drawn  something  nearer  to 
the  General's  barouche.  She  was  in  fact  standing  beside 
the  very  next  carriage,  trying  to  wheedle  the  occupants 
to  have  their  fortunes  told ;  but  they  all — a  circle  of  de- 
mure women — sternly  warned  the  sibyl  off  and  threat- 
ened her  with  the  police,  at  which  she  laughed  and  shook 
her  crisp,  black  curls. 

"  The  police  would  not  trouble  a  poor  gipsy  wife  like 
herself,"  she  said. 

Then  General  Lyon  bent  over  the  side  of  his  barouche, 
and  showing  her  a  broad,  silver  crown,  said : 

«  Come  here,  good  woman,  and  tell  these  young  ladies' 
fortunes." 

"  Ah,  Heaven  bless  your  handsome  face,  kind  gentleman 
but  I  would  like  to  tell  yours,  too,  for  a  fine  fortune  it  has 
been,  and  is,  and  is  to  be !  "  said  the  gipsy  coming  up  to 
the  carriage. 

She  was  a  small,  slight  woman,  lithe  and  graceful  like 
all  her  race,  with  a  swarthy  and  somewhat  wrinkled  face ; 
with  deep-set,  brilliant  black  eyes ;  crisply  curling,  tendril- 
like  black  hair ;  and  well-marked  black  eyebrows.  She 
did  not  wear  the  traditional  red  cloak  and  plaid  head 
kerchief — those  have  long  passed  away  even  from  among 
her  tribe  but  she  wore  rather  tawdry  and  shabby  finery 
— a  striped  skirt,  a  black  shawl,  a  straw  bonnet  trimmed 
with  ribbons  and  flowers  of  many  colors,  red  predomina- 
ing.  And,  upon  the  whole,  her  appearance  was  picturesque 
and  pleasing.  Neither  did  she  address  her  dupes  in  the 
poetic  language  of  the  ideal  gipsy — her  words  and  manner 
were  as  real  as  herself. 

"  God  save  you,  fair  gentlemen  !  God  save  you,  sweet 
ladies  !  Shall  the  poor  gipsy  tell  your  fortunes  ?  I  see 


152  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

good  luck  in  your  face,  pretty  lady  !  I  see  great  good 
luck !  Give  the  poor  gipsy  a  little,  little  bit  of  silver  to 
cross  your  hand  with,  and  she  will  look  and  see  what  the 
great  good  fortune  is  that  is  in  store  for  you.  Do,  pretty 
lady,"  she  pleaded  in  a  very  sweet,  soft,  wheedling  tone 
as  she  held  out  her  hand  to  Anna. 

Mrs.  Hammond  dropped  a  shilling  in  her  palm  and, 
smiling,  said : 

u  My  fortune  is  already  told,  good  woman,  but  I  want 
you  to  foretell  the  future  of  my  dear  little  son  here." 
And  she  lifted  Lenny  from  Dick's  arms  to  her  own  lap. 

Drusilla  with  a  half-suppressed  exclamation,  now 
looked  around. 

But  Anna  gave  her  a  comically  beseeching  took,  and 
she  yielded  the  point  and  turned  away. 

The  gipsy  seemed  not  to  notice  this  little  by-play.  She 
stood  with  her  hands  folded  upon  her  breast  and  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  ground. 

"  Come,  gipsy  !  look  upon  my  little,  son  here  and  read 
his  future,"  said  Anna. 

The  gipsy  woman  raised  her  glittering  black  eyes,  and, 
smiling,  shook  her  tendril-like  black  curls  and  said  : 

"  Ah,  pretty,  fair  lady !  You  think  the  poor  gipsy  can 
tell  what  is  to  come,  yet  is  so  blind  she  cannot  see  what 
is  now  ! — no !  M 

"  What  do  you  mean,  good  woman  ?  " 

"  The  boy  is  not  your  son,  sweet  lady." 

«  Not  my  son !  Why,  look  at  him  !  He  is  the  very 
image  of  me ! " 

"  He  is  very  like  you,  pretty  lady  ;  and  that  shows  him 
to  be  of  your  race ;  but  he  is  not  your  son." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  "  questioned  Anna,  begin- 
ning to  wonder  at  the  woman's  knowledge. 

"  By  my  art.  You  have  no  son,  sweet  lady.  You  will 
never  have  a  son ;  but " 

"  Oh,  don't  tell  me  that,  gipsy !  I  didn't  give  you  a 
shilling  to  purchase  bad  news." 

"  A  sovereign  will  not  buy  good  news  unless  it  is  true, 
pretty  lady  ;  and  the  gipsy's  words  are  true.  I  was  going 
to  tell  you,  though  you  have  no  son,  you  will  have  many 
fair  daughters,  who  will  live  and  grow  up  and  marry  and 


THE  GIPSIES.  153 

bear  many  fine  sons,  who  will  grow  up  and  be  great  men 
in  the  land." 

"  This  is  foretelling  the  long  future  with  a  notable  bless- 
ing !  "  laughed  Anna.  "  But  I  wish  you  had  promised 
these  fine  sons  to  me  instead  of  to  my  future  daughters.  I 
don't  care  anything  about  those  very  shadowy  young 
ladies.  I  don't  know  them." 

The  gipsy  turned  to  Dick,  and  with  her  musical  whine 
pleaded  : 

"  Kind,  handsome  gentleman,  do  cross  the  poor  gipsy 
wife's  hand  with  a  little,  little  bit  of  silver,  for  telling  all 
about  your  wife's  daughters  and  daughters'  sons,  who 
will  be  rulers  in  the  land  beyond  the  sea." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  lady  is  my  wife  ?  "  inquired 
Dick,  much  astonished. 

"  Ah  !  good  gentleman,  can  the  gipsy  know  the  future 
and  not  know  the  present  ?  Now,  kind,  handsome  gentle- 
man, give  the  poor  gipsy  a  bit  of  silver  for  good  luck — the 
poor  gipsy,  sweet  gentleman !  who  sees  such  great,  good 
fortune  for  you,  and  none  at'  all  for  herself  ! " 

"  Then  she  is  no  true  seeress,  or  she  would  see  this  piece 
of  good  fortune  coming  to  her,"  said  Dick,  as  in  the  large- 
ness of  his  heart  and  the  extravagance  of  his  habits  he 
put  into  the  gipsy's  hands  the  great  American  gold  com, 
the  double  eagle,  worth  nearly  five  sovereigns. 

The  gipsy  had  never  seen  such  a  coin  in  her  life.  It 
inspired  her,  and  for  once  she  broke  into  something  like 
poetry. 

"  Ah,  noble  gentleman  !  you  have  made  the  poor  gipsy 
rich  and  happy.  Ah  !  kind  gentleman,  may  the  stars 
rain  down  blessings  on  your  head  as  bright  as  their  own 
beams !  May  flowers  spring  up  under  your  footsteps 
wherever  you  tread !  May " 

"  Dick  !  "  laughed  Anna,  breaking  into  the  discourse 
and  cutting  short  the  rhapsody,  "  I  shall  lend  you  out  to 
some  of  our  old  neighbors  to  walk  their  barren  gardens 
into  bloom ! " 

"  Come,"  said  Dick,  to  change  the  subject — "  come, 
gipsy,  tell  my  little  cousin's  fortune  here.  "Will  she  live 
to  grow  up  and  get  married  ?  " 

The  gipsy  turned  at  his  bidding  and  looked  at  Drusilla 


154  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

whose  childlike  face  might  have  deceived  eyes  less  keenly 
penetrating  than  those  ef  the  gipsy  seeress. 

"  Cross  the  poor  gipsy's  hand  with  a  little,  little  bit  of 
silver,  sweet  lady,  and  let  her  tell  your  fortune,  my  lady  ? 
The  gipsy  sees  rare  good  luck  in  your  pretty  face,  my 
lady !  "  said  the  woman,  in  a  wheedling  tone. 

What  young  creature,  unsatisfied  and  with  a  deep  heart 
stake  in  life,  is  not  hi  some  degree  a  prey  to  superstition 
and  credulity  ? — is  not  in  secret  a  would-be  diviner  of 
dreams,  interpreter  of  omens,  consulter  of  the  stars,  reader 
of  the  future  ?  The  restless,  longing,  impatient  heart  can- 
not wait  the  slow  revelations  of  time ;  it  would,  with  rash 
hand,  rend  aside  the  veil  and  know  the  worst  or  best  at 
once. 

So  it  was  with  Brasilia  now.  She  dropped  a  silver 
crown  in  the  gipsy's  hand,  and  then,  half  in  faith  and  half 
in  scorn  of  that  misplaced  faith,  she  held  out  her  palm. 

The  gipsy  glanced  slightly  at  the  palm,  but  gazed  ear- 
nestly in  the  face  of  the  young  matron. 

"  My  lady,  you  have  been  a  wife  and  you  are  a  mother, 
you  have  had  trouble — long  trouble  for  so  short  a  life,  and 
a  great  trouble  for  so  gentle  a  lady ;  but  it  is  gone  now, 
and  it  will  never  come  back  any  more." 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  that,"  murmured  Drusilla. 

"  But  you  are  not  satisfied  yet.  There  is  something 
wanted,  my  lady.  You  have  a  hungry,  hungry  heart,  and 
a  begging  eye.  You  are  longing  and  famishing  for  some- 
thing, my  lady,  and  you  will  get  it ;  for  the  hungry  heart 
is  a  mighty  heart,  and  must  prevail ;  and  the  begging  eye 
is  a  conquering  eye  that  will  overcome.  Sweet,  my  lady, 
grief  has  gone  away,  never  to  come  back  to  you  ;  and  joy 
will  soon  come,  never  to  leave  you." 

"  Oil,  if  I  were  sure  that  were  true.  If  I  could  only 
believe  that ! "  exclaimed  Drusilla,  earnestly. 

"  You  may  believe  it,  my  lady.     You  will  soon  see  it." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  By  my  art,"  answered  the  gipsy. 

And  then  she  turned  to  General  Lyon  and  said,  coax- 
ingly : 

"  Ah  !  kind,  handsome  gentleman,  you  will  cross  the  poor 
gipsy's  hand  with  a  little  silver  to  help  her,  poor  thing, 
and  she  will  tell  you  such  a  good  fortune !  " 


THE  GIPSIES.  155 

"My  fortune  is  all  told  these  many  years  past,  good 
woman,"  said  the  General,  with  a  sigh  that  did  not  escape 
the  gipsy's  keen  eyes. 

"  Ah  !  don't  say  so,  good,  dear  gentleman.  You  have 
many  long  and  happy  years  of  life  to  live  yet." 

"  I  am  an  old  man,  gipsy ;  I  have  lived  out  my  life." 

"  Ah  no,  noble  gentleman,  not  so.  You  are  in  your 
prime.  Ah  me !  with  your  grand  form  and  handsome 
face,  you  could  make  many  a  sweet,  pretty  lady's  heart 
ache  yet  if  you  chose  ;  yes,  that  you  could." 

"  Come,  come,  my  good  woman,  that  is  going  a  little  too 
far,"  laughed  the  General,  not  displeased.  What  old  gen- 
tleman ever  is  with  a  little  flattery  ? 

"  It  is  going  a  great  deal  too  far,  grandpa.  Come  now, 
don't  let  her  be  putting  courtship  and  matrimony  into 
your  head.  I  won't  have  any  young  grandmamma  set  up 
at  Old  Lyon  Hall  to  lord  it  over  me,"  laughed  Anna. 

"  Nonsense,  my  girl !  The  only  way  in  which  I  may  ever 
make  any  lady's  heart  ache,  will  be  by  getting  the  gout, 
and  growing  cross  over  it,  and  growling  at  you  and  Dru- 
silla  from  morning  until  night,"  said  the  General. 

At  that  moment  a  policeman  stepped  up  and  put  his 
hand  on  the  gipsy's  shoulder,  saying : 

"  Come,  Gentilly,  I  have  had  my  eye  on  you  this  half 
hour.  Move  on." 

"  Ah,  bless  the  dear  blue  eyes  of  him,"  coaxed  the  for- 
tune-teller, turning  around  and  patting  the  man's  cheeks, 
"  he'll  never  make  the  poor  old  gipsy  wife  move  on,  now 
that  she  has  come  up  to  her  luck — such  luck,  my  darling. 
Only  see  what  the  grand,  noble  young  gentleman  has 
given  the  poor  gipsy.  When  the  race  is  over,  come  up  to 
my  tent,  pet,  and  have  a  pot  of  porter  and  a  plate  of  biled 
beef  and  carrots  with  his  old  mother,"  she  added,  patting 
him  on  the  cheek  again  and  turning  from  him. 

"  That's  the  way,  you  see,  sir — that's  always  the  way 
with  Gentilly,"  said  the  policeman,  apologetically,  to  the 
old  gentleman. 

"  You  know  her  ?  "  inquired  Dick. 

"  Know  Gentilly  ?  Bless  you,  sir,  everybody  on  the  race- 
course knows  Gentilly  and  her  sister,  Patience." 

"  And  you  know  no  harm  of  her,  I  dare  say,  although 
you  are  a  police  officer." 


156  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Well,  sir,  beyond " 

**  Now,  he  is  not  going  to  tell  lies  on  the  old  gipsy  ! — It 
will  be  three  o'clock.  Come  up  at  my  tent  for  the  biled 
beef  and  carrots  and  the  pot  of  porter,"  said  the  fortune- 
teller, laying  her  bauds  upon  the  lips  of  the  police  officer. 

At  that  moment  the  two  young  men  stepped  up. 

Geutilly  turned  to  them  immediately. 

"  Tell  your  fortune,  sweet  young  gentlemen  ?  Cross 
the  poor  gipsy's  hand  with  silver  to  tell  your  fortune." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  laughed  Spencer.  "  I  have  had  my 
fortune  told  by  members  of  your  tribe  at  least  ten  times 
to-day." 

"  But  here's  half  a  crown  for  you  if  you'll  only  go  away 
and  not  bother,"  added  Tredegar,  dropping  the  coin  into 
the  gipsy's  hand. 

"  Blessings  on  your  handsome  face,  kind  gentleman ! 
Ah !  I  could  tell  you  of  a  fair  lady  who  is  thinking  of 
you,"  coaxed  Gentilly. 

"  And  thinking  what  a  long-legged,  lantern-jawed,  lank- 
haired  fright  the  Yankee  boy  is,  no  doubt.  All  right ; 
you  can  tell  me  that  another  time ;  but  go  now  and  don't 
bother." 

"  Yes,  Gentilly,  you  really  must  move  on,"  added  the 
policeman. 

And  the  fortune-teller,  having  gleaned  all  that  she 
could  from  the  company,  did  move  on. 

And  now  an  agitation  like  the  movement  of  the  wind 
upon  the  waves  of  the  sea  or  the  leaves  of  the  forest 
swayed  the  vast  multitude. 

"  "What's  the  matter  now  ?  "  inquired  the  General. 

"  The  horses — they  are  coming,"  answered  Spencer. 

"  Is  it  the  great  race  ?    Are  they  going  to  start  ?  " 

"  Not  just  yet.  They  are  being  brought  out  and  walked 
around  the  course  to  be  shown.  Here  they  are!"  ex- 
claimed Tredegar. 

All  in  the  barouche  stood  up,  adjusted  their  field-glasses 
and  levelled  them  at  the  race-course  that  encircled  the 
field. 

About  thirty  of  the  very  finest  horses  in  the  world,  dec- 
orated, and  ridden  by  sjnall,  light  jockeys  in  parti-colored 
suits  and  fancy  caps,  came  on  in  procession  and  trotted 
around  the  course.  Some  three  years  ago  these  horses 


THE  GIPSIES,  157 

"  the  cream  of  the  cream  "  of  the  horse  nobility,  had  been 
bred  and  born  to  order,  and  from  that  time  trained  for  this 
Derby — a  most  careful  and  costly  preparation  of  three 
years  for  a  trial  that  would  be  decided  in  half  an  hour. 
No  wonder  at  the  breathless  interest  they  excited  even 
among  those  who  had  no  stake  in  the  race. 

Involuntary  exclamations  of  admiration  and  delight 
burst  from  the  ladies  of  our  party. 

"  What  beautiful  creatures  !  "  cried  Anna. 

"  Pity  they  can't  all  win,"  added  Drusilla. 

The  train  of  horses  trotted  out  of  their  range  of  vision, 
and  disappeared  from  view  on  another  section  of  the 
circle. 

"  Is  there  time  to  lunch  before  the  great  race  ?  "  inquired 
Dick,  with  a  hungry  glance  at  the  hampers. 

"No,  sir;  they  start  in  fifteen  minutes,"  answered 
Tredegar. 

Those  fifteen  minutes  passed  in  silent  waiting.  For- 
tune-telling, small-trading,  ballad-singing,  eating  and 
drinking — all  were  suspended  until  the  trial  upon  which 
such  immense  stakes  were  laid  should  be  over.  It  was  a 
holiday, — a  festival ;  yet  the  hush  that  preceded  the 
great  event  of  the  day,  was  like  the  awful  pause  before 
an  execution. 

"At  length  the  spell  was  broken.  The  word  went 
forth : 

"  They're  starting !  " 

Three  hundred  thousand  people  were  on  their  feet  hi 
an  instant. 

"  They're  coming !  " 

Field-glasses  were  raised  and  necks  were  stretched,  and 
eyes  were  strained. 

"  Here  they  are  !     Here  they  are ! " 

Yes,  here  they  are.  The  flying  train  of  meteors  flash- 
ing past !  They  are  gone  while  we  look !  Unaccustomed 
eyes  cannot  trace  their  flight,  or  distinguish  one  horse 
from  another  in  the  lightning-like  passage.  A  moment 
more  and  the  goal  is  won !  " 

By  whom  ? 

It  is  not  certainly  known  to  the  crowd  just  yet.  They 
say: 

«  Lightfoot  i " 


158  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

«  Wing ! " 

"  Wonder ! " 

No,  none  of  these.  The  number  flies  up  on  the  winning 
post: 

Number  Seven ! 

And  a  thousand  voices  cry  out : 

"  Fairy  Queen  !  " 

Yes,  the  favorite  has  won  the  race ;  and  Mr.  Chisholm 
Cheke  has  made  his  fortune.  Some  few  others  have  won 
much  money,  and  many  have  lost,  and  some  are  ruined. 

Do  not  look  towards  the  Grand  Stand.  The  haggard 
faces  of  those  ruined  gamesters  will  haunt  your  dreams 
to  your  life's  end. 

It  was  wonderful  how  soon  after  the  great  act  of  this 
drama  has  been  performed  that  the  uncompromised  crowd 
subsided  into  comparative  calmness,  and  betook  them- 
selves again  to  their  outside  amusements — their  small 
trading,  fortune-telling,  ballad-singing,  et  cetera,  while 
waiting  for  the  next  race. 

General  Lyon  ordered  up  his  hampers,  and  his  party 
had  luncheon.  After  they  had  finished,  the  fragments  of 
their  feast  were  distributed  to  the  little  beggars  that- 
thronged  around  their  carriage- wheels. 

At  four  o'clock  our  party  left  the  ground  to  return  to 
London. 

The  evening  drive  back  to  London  was  attended  with 
all  the  incidents  of  the  morning  drive  to  Epsom — a  hun- 
dred-fold increased — the  crowd  was  thicker,  the  crush 
closer,  the  noise  louder,  the  dust  higher,  the  danger 
greater. 

Through  all  these,  however,  our  party  passed  safely,  and 
reached  their  apartments  at  the  Morley  House  in  time  for 
an  early  tea. 


HOW  THE  PARTED  MET.  159 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

HOW  THE  PARTED  MET. 

They  seemed  to  those  who  saw  them  most, 

The  careless  friends  of  every  day, 
Her  smile  was  still  serene  and  sweet, 

His  courtesy  was  free  and  gay  ; 
Yet  if  by  one  the  other's  name 

In  some  unguarded  hour  was  heard, 
The  heart  they  deemed  so  cold  and  tame 
Would  flutter  like  a  captured  bird.— MONCTON  MlLNES, 

A  FEW  days  after  the  Derby,  Anna  and  Brasilia  sat  in 
their  private  parlor  at  the  hotel,  waiting  for  the  return  of 
the  General  and  Dick,  who  had  gone  out  to  keep  an  en- 
gagement with  Francis  Tredegar,  but  had  promised  to  be 
back  in  time  to  take  the  ladies  to  the  Tower. 

Little  Lenny  was  out  with  his  nurse  in  the  square. 

The  conversation  between  the  two  young  women  turned 
upon  the  gipsies. 

"  It  is  wonderful,  their  seeming  powers  of  prophecy  or 
second  sight,"  said  Anna, 

"  I  wish  I  could  know  their  skill  to  be  second  sight, 
since  they  prophesied  to  me  such  smooth  things  ;  but,  in 
truth,  I  think  it  was  only  INSIGHT,"  replied  Drusilla. 

« « Insight  ? '  " 

"  Nothing  more." 

"  But  how  did  she  know  that  Lenny  was  not  my  son 
when  I  told  her  he  was  ?  " 

«  By  that  same  gift  of  insight,  which  I  think  they  cul- 
tivate to  a  great  perfection.  She  read  you,  Anna — she 
saw  through  you.  She  knew  by  your  manner  that  you 
were  Dick's  wife ;  but  also  that  your  bright  face  had 
never  been  clouded  by  a  mother's  cares." 

"  And  by  the  same  power  she  divined  that  you  were 
both  wife  and  mother." 

"  Yes ;  she  looked  in  my  face,  not  hi  my  hand.  They 
say  that « every  face  is  a  history,  or  a  prophecy,' — certain- 
ly every  face  seems  to  be  both  to  these  skilful  physiogno- 
mists, the  gipsies." 


160  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  It  is  their  insight,  then,  that  gives  them  snch  knowl- 
edge of  human  nature  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  They  may  be  very  ignorant  of  books,  but 
they  are  very  learned  in  men  and  women." 

"  You  must  have  studied  the  gipsy  while  she  was  study- 
ing you." 

"  I  did,  Anna.  I  watched  her  and  others  of  her  tribe 
while  they  were  telling  fortunes.  I  saw  their  insight 
gave  them  a,  foresight  that  the  ignorant  and  superficial 
might  mistake  for  supernatural  powers  of  second  sight 
and  prophecy.  I  saw  how  they  worked.  For  instance, 
they  know  as  a  general-  fact  that  the  wishes  of  the  young 
run  upon  love ;  those  of  the  middle-aged  upon  money  and 
worldly  success ;  those  of  the  old  upon  long  life.  There- 
fore, to  the  young  they  always  promise  success  in  love  ; 
to  the  mature,  success  in  money  matters;  to  the  aged, 
length  of  days.  If  they  see  a  look  of  sorrow  upon  a  young 
face,  and  no  apparent  cause,  like  a  suit  of  deep  mourning, 
for  it,  thuy  will  tell  the  dupe  that  he  or  she  has  been 
crossed  in  love,  but  that  all  will  end  well.  If  a  look  of 
care  upon  a  middle-aged  face,  they  will  speak  of  mone- 
tary anxieties  ;  but  they  will  also  promise  a  fortunate  is- 
sue to  the  difficulty.  If  of  weariness  upon  an  old  face, 
they  will  still  talk  of  long  and  happy  years  to  come. 
Moreover,  they  think  since  opposites  usually  attract  each 
other,  that  it  is  safe  to  tell  a  blonde  young  lady  that  a 
dark  young  gentleman  is  thinking  of  her,  and  a  brunette 
that  her  thoughts  favor  the  attachment  of  a  certain  fair 
*  complected '  gentleman ;  and  generally  they  hit  the 
truth." 

"  Yes,  the  rule  most  generally  holds  good.  Witness 
Alick,  Dick,  you  and  me.  Alick,  a  blonde,  jilted  me,  an- 
other blonde,  for  you,  a  brunette.  And  I  was  very  will- 
ing to  be  left  free  to  marry  my  dark-haired  Dick." 

While  Anna  spoke  the  door  opened  and  little  Lenny 
entered,  dragging  in  his  nurse,  and  full  of  excitement. 

"  Man !  man !  div  Lenny  dit ! "  he  exclaimed,  holding 
out  a  silver  whistle  to  view,  and  then  putting  it  to  his  lips 
and  blowing  a  shrill  blast. 

«  Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  goodness  sake  what  lunatic  gave  the 
boy  that?  We  shall  be  deafened!"  exclaimed  Anna, 
clapping  her  hands  to  her  ears. 


HOW  THE  PARTED  MET.  161 

Drusilla  trembled  with  pleasure,  for  she  instinctively 
knew  the  donor  of  the  whistle ;  but  she  smiled  and  lifted 
the  boy  in  her  arms,  called  Pina  to  follow,  and  went  to 
her  own  room. 

"  Who  gave  it  to  him,  Pina  ?  "  she  asked,  as  soon  as 
she  had  shut  the  door. 

"  His  father,  ma'am." 

«  Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  We  were  walking  around  the  square,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  who  should  come  up  but  Mr.  Alick — I  mean  Lord 
Killpeople,  as  they  call  him  here." 

«  Killcrichtoun,  Pina." 

"  Well,  Killchristians,  ma'am ;  it's  all  the  same,  only 
worse,  because  of  course  it  is  much  more  devilisher,  beg- 
ging your  pardon,  ma'am,  to  kill  Christians  than  it  is  to 
do  to  common  people.  Any  ways,  up  he  comes." 

«  And What  then  ?    Go  on." 

"  I  didn't  go  in,  ma'am,  though  I  was  minded  to.  I  did 
as  you  directed  me  to  do  on  such  occasions.  I  stopped 
and  made  a  curtsy,  and  handed  little  Lenny  forward  so  as 
to  place  him  in  front  of  me  facing  of  his  father.  And 
says  he : 

"  '  How  do  you  do,  Pina  ?  When  did  you  arrive  ?  Whom, 
did  you  come  with  ? ' 

"  And  then,  without  waiting  for  me  to  answer  them 
questions,  he  lifted  up  little  Lenny  in  his  arms,  and  says, 
he: 

" '  Whose  child  is  this  ? '  And  says  I, « He  is  General 
Ly on's  grand-nephew,  sir,  if  you  please  ; '  for  I  was  sure 
all  the  time  he  knowed  well  enough  it  was  his  own. 

"  '  I  didn't  ask  you  whose  nephew  he  is ;  I  asked  you 
whose  child  he  is.' 

"  '  The  same  child  whose  hair  you  cut,  sir,  please,'  I  an- 
swered. 

« '  Bosh,  girl,  you  trifle  with  me  !     Whose  son  is   he  ?  " 

"  '  Please,  sir,  I  thought  you  knew.  He  is  Mrs.  Alexan- 
der Lyon's  oion  son,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hammond's  and, 
General  Lyon's  god-son.' 

"  *  Humph  !  what's  his  name  ? '  says  he. 

" '  Master  Leonard  Lyon,  sir,'  says  I. 

« '  Then  as  I  am  Lord  Killcrichtoun,  he  is  the  Master  of 
Killcrichtoun ! " 


162  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

" «  LORDS  AND  MASTERS,  sir !  you  don't  say  so  ? '  says  I. 

"  And  he  frowned  at  me,  black  as  thunder ;  but  little 
Lenny  began  to  prattle  to  him,  and  he  smiled  and  told  me 
to  follow  him.  And  he  took  us  to  a  fine  silversmith's 
shop  in  the  Strand,  and  bought  him  this  whistle.  And 
then  he  told  me  to  take  the  boy  home  to  his  mother,  as 
it  was  growing  too  warm  to  keep  him  out  in  the  sun." 

While  Pina  spoke,  Brasilia's  tears  fell  fast ;  but  she 
wiped  them  away  and  inquired  : 

"  You  know,  Pina,  when  we  first  came  here,  he  was 
lodging  in  this  house.  But  I  have  not  seen  him  lately. 
Do  you  know  whether  he  is  still  here  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,  he  isn't.  I  asked  that  very  question  of 
the  waiter ;  and  he  told  me  « my  lord  '  had  gone  and  taken 
apartments  at  '  Mivart's.'  " 

"  We  drove  him  away,  I  suppose,"  muttered  Brasilia 
to  herself. 

"  Ma'am,  I  don't  think  Mrs.  Hammond  or  Mr.  Dick,  or 
the  General  knows  of  Mr.  Alick  being  about.  If  they  ask 
me  who  gave  Master  Lenny  the  whistle,  am  I  to  tell  ?  " 

"Certainly,  Pina." 

Drusilla  was  interrupted  by  a  rap  at  the  door.  The 
voice  of  Anna  without  called : 

"  Grandpa  and  Dick  have  returned,  and  the  carriage  is 
waiting,  Drusa.  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

"  Quite  read}-,  dear,"  answered  Drusilla,  hastily  tying 
on  her  bonnet,  and  then  going  out  and  joining  Anna." 

They  went  to  the  drawing-room,  Drusilla  leading  Lenny 
who  was  shrilly  blowing  upon  his  whistle. 

"  Miserabile  !  Young  gentleman,  that  will  not  do.  The 
other  guests  will  lay  complaints  and  the  proprietor  will 
give  us  warning,"  exclaimed  General  Lyon. 

«  Who  gave  Lenny  that  ?  "  inquired  Dick. 

u  Man,  man  La  tware  give  Lenny  dat,"  said  the  imp, 
taking  the  instrument  of  torture  from  his  lips  to  reply, 
and  then  putting  back  and  puffing  out  his  cheeks  to 
blow  an  ear-piercing  blast. 

"  Christopher  Columbus !  that  will  never  do.  '  Man  hi 
the  square.'  What  man  gave  the  child  such  a  nuisance 
as  that?  Was  it  Spencer,  or  any  of  our  people?"  de- 
manded the  General. 

"  It  was  his  father,"  calmly  replied  Drusilla. 


HOW  THE  PARTED  MET.  163 

A  sort  of  panic  fell  upon  the  party.  The  short  spell  of 
silence  was  broken  by  General  Lyon. 

"  Humph  !  humph  !  humph  !  humph  !  so  he's  turned  up 
again,  has  he  ?  Where  did  he  see  the  boy,  my  dear  ?  n 

"  Uncle  "  said  Drusilla  "  he  was  lodging  at  this  house, 
when  we  first  came.  He  left,  I  think,  the  same  evening. 
But  he  knew  that  we  also  were  lodging  here ;  for  while 
we  were  driving  out  to  leave  our  cards  he  came  in  and, 
cut  off  a  lock  of  little  Lenny's  hair,  and  took  it  away  with 
him." 

"  When  was  this?" 

"  The  first  day  we  went  driving,  uncle ;  the  day  before 
the  Derby." 

"  Humph !  humph !  humph !  And  he  left  the  same 
evening  ?  and  he  has  not  been  here  since  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so,  uncle." 

"  Humph,  humph ;  it  is  clear  that  the  sight  of  us  sent 
him  away.  I  don't  wonder  at  that.  I  only  wonder  it  did 
not  blast  him." 

"  Oh,  uncle,  uncle ! "  pleaded  Drusilla. 

"  My  dear,  your  love  may  in  time — or  in  eternity — re- 
deem the  fellow,  for  ought  I  know.  But  it  has  not  yet 
changed  him  into  an  angel  of  light  or  even  into  a  decently 
behaved  devil,  for  a  very  devil  with  any  decency  left  in 
him  would  have  come  round  long  before  this.  Well,  well, 
there,  I  see  how  much  I  distress  you.  I  will  say  no 
more,  my  dear ;  I  will  say  no  more." 

Drusilla  bowed  in  silence  and  turned  away.  Her  heart 
was  too  full  for  utterance.  Her  voice  was  choked  with 
emotion.  She  felt  all  the  more  deeply  hurt  by  her  uncle's 
severe  strictures  upon  her  Alick,  because  she  knew  them 
to  be  the  expression  of  his  real  and  but  too  well-founded 
opinion.  And  neither  could  she  resent  them,  coming 
from  him.  She  owed  him  too  vast  a  debt  of  gratitude. 
He  had  saved  her  life  and  her  child's  life  in  their  utmost 
extremity.  And  besides,  he  was  Alick's  uncle,  and  the  head 
of  his  family  ;  he  had  himself,  in  the  person  of  his  beloTed 
granddaughter,  been  deeply  wronged  by  his  nephew  and 
so  had  the  right  to  sit  in  judgment  on  him. 

Thus  because  she  heard  this  blame  cast  upon  her  still 
beloved  Alick  without  the  moral  power  of  resenting  it, 
she  suffered  in  silence. 


164  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Not  long,  however.  The  cloud  soon  lifted  itself  and 
rolled  away.  Little  Lenny  came  to  her  with  his  whistle. 

"  Put  dit  'way.  Lenny  tired.  Lenny  daw  ate,"  he  said, 
pushing  the  toy  up  into  her  lap. 

"  Put  it  away,  mamma.  Lenny  is  tired,  and  Lenny's 
jaws  ache  and  no  wonder,"  said  Anna,  smiling.  "  We 
are  all  glad  that  Master  Lenny's  jaws  can  ache  with  all 
his  tooting,  as  well  as  our  ears." 

"  Top  naddin',"  answered  Lenny. 

« *  Stop  nagging '  ?  Where  did  he  pick  up  that  phrase, 
eh,  Master  Lenny  ?  You  don't  hear  it  from  any  of  us." 

"  Come,  my  dears,  if  we  are  to  see  the  Tower  before  din- 
ner, we  had  better  start  at  once.  Is  Lenny  to  go  with  us, 
Drusa  ?  " 

«*  Yes,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"  You  know  that  I  always  like  to  have  the  little  fellow." 

"  But  I  shall  stipulate  that  the  whistle  be  left  behind. 
We  shall  find  instruments  of  torture  enough  in  the  Tower ; 
though  I  don't  believe  the  utmost  ingenuity  of  cruelty 
ever  thought  of  a  child's  whistle  wherewith  to  torment  a 
victim.  That  was  left  for  Mr.  Alick." 

"  Come,  come,  Anna,  I  will  not  have  another  word  said 
against  Alick,  since  it  grieves  our  darling  here.  But  I 
would  like  to  know  what  keeps  him  hanging  about  here 
so  long.  He  has  been  here  now  nearly  two  years." 

"  Uncle,"  said  Brasilia,  who  now  thought  that  she  might 
as  well  tell  all  her  news  at  once — news  which  indeed  she 
had  intended  to  tell,  when  the  subject  of  Alick's  presence 
was  first  introduced,  but  which  was  then  arrested  on  her 
lips  by  the  indignant  animadversions  of  General  Lyon — 
"  Uncle  do  you  remember  reading  last  winter  in  the  London 
Times  of  a  young  American  gentleman  who  claimed, 
through  his  mother,  the  Barony  of  Killcrichtoun  ?  " 

"  I — think  I  do  remember  some  such  asinine  proceed- 
ing on  the  part  of  a  young  countryman  of  ours." 

"  He  was  your  nephew,  uncle,  and  he  has  made  good  the 
claim.  He  is  now  Lord  Killcrichtoun.  That  is  the  reason 
why  he  stays  in  England,  I  suppose." 

"  Whe — ew !  "  whistled  the  old  gentleman,  slowly,  add- 
ing sotto  voce,  so  as  not  to  be  heard  by  Drusilla  : 

"  I  knew  he  was  a  scamp ;  but  never  suspected  him  of 
being  an  ass." 


HOW  THE  PARTED  MET.  165 

But  Dick  had  handed  Brasilia,  Lenny  and  Anna  into  the 
carriage,  and  was  waiting  to  perform  the  same  service  for 
his  uncle,  who  now  entered  and  took  his  seat.  The  drive 
from  Charing  Cross  to  the  Tower  was  comparatively  short, 
but  very  interesting,  taking  our  travelers  through  the 
most  ancient  and  historical  portions  of  Old  London. 

Drawing  near  the  grim,  old  fortress  of  the  kings  of  Eng- 
land, they  saw  rising  above  the  thickly -crowded  buildings 
of  the  city  and  the  turbid  waters  of  the  Thames,  the  cen- 
tral keep,  or  citadel,  known  as  the  White  Tower,  and  sur- 
rounded by  its  double  line  of  fortified  walls  and  by  its  dry 
moat. 

Our  party  alighted  from  their  carriage  at  the  great  gate, 
flanked  by  embattled  turrets  at  the  south-western  angle  of 
the  walls. 

Having  paid  their  sixpence  each  as  entrance  fee,  they 
passed  over  the  stone  bridge  across  the  moat  and  found 
themselves  within  the  outer  ward,  between  the  two  lines  of 
wall. 

Here,  overpowered  by  the  spirit  of  the  past,  they  looked 
around  them,  feeling  something  cf  the  awe  that  children 
feel  in  a  churchyard  in  the  dusk  of  evening.  The  spirit  of 
the  past  was  indeed  before  them — and  not  only  in  the 
hoary  walls  of  the  middle  ages,  but  in  the  living  creatures 
of  the  day ;  for  the  warders  of  the  Tower,  the  Extraordi- 
nary Yeomen  of  the  Royal  Guard,  commonly  called  the 
"  Beef  Eaters,"  were  dressed  in  the  costume  of  the  time  of 
Henry  the  Eighth. 

One  of  these  stepped  up  to  General  Lyon,  and  saluting 
respectfully,  tendered  his  service  as  guide. 

"  And  there  are  the  buildings  and  there  the  costumes, 
this  the  ground  and  that  the  sky  that  met  the  eyes  of  beau- 
tiful Anne  Boleyn  as  she  first  came  to  this  place  a  bride 
and  a  queen,  and  last  as  a  victim  and  a  convict,"  murmured 
Drusilla,  dreamily  and  half  unconsciously. 

"  Queen  Anne  entered  by  that  postern  at  the  water  side, 
when  she  came  here  in  state  before  her  coronation ;  but 
the  last  time  she  was  here  she  was  brought  in  by  the 
Traitors'  Gate,  a  few  days  before  her  execution,"  said  the 
literal  warder,  speaking  just  as  if  he  had  been  an  eye- 
witness to  both  proceedings. 

Drusilla  stared  at  him}  and  thought  he  really  might 


166  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

have  been  an  actor  in  those  long  past  tragedies  ;  in  his 
costume  of  that  day  he  looked  like  a  ghost  of  the  past. 

"  Where  was  Lady  Jane  Grey  brought  in  when  she  was 
brought  here  a  prisoner !  " 

"  Through  the  Traitors'  Gate." 

"  Ah,  it  seems  that  all  who  offended  majesty  in  those 
palmy  days,  however  innocent  they  might  have  been,  were 
traitors.  Where  is  that  Traitors'  Gate  ?  " 

"  Some  distance  down  the  southern  side,  my  lady.  We 
will  come  around  to  it  presently,  when  I  will  show  it  to 
you." 

They  were  now  making  the  circuit  of  the  Outer  Ward, 
passing  up  the  west  side. 

«  There,  sir,  are  the  old  buildings  once  appropriated  to 
the  Mint,  which  is  now  removed  to  a  handsome  edifice  on 
Tower  Hill,  which  I  will  show  you,"  said  the  guide,  turn- 
ing to  General  Lyon. 

And  the  General  and  Dick  gave  him  their  attention. 

But  Anna  and  Drusilla  were  not  interested  in  the  mint, 
and  remembered  Tower  Hill  only  as  the  scene  of  the  exe- 
cution of  Lord  Guilford  Dudley. 

Passing  on,  the  guide  pointed  out  many  objects  of  inter- 
•est ;  the  two  strong  bastions — the  Legge  Mount  and  the 
Brass  Mount — defending  the  north-western  and  north- 
eastern angles  of  the  outer  wall ;  the  Iron  Gate  and  Tower 
at  the  south-eastern  angle  ;  the  site  of  the  ancient  Well 
Tower,  and  the  remains  of  the  Cradle  Tower.  Thus  they 
came  at  last  to  St.  Thomas's  Tower,  which  guards  the 
Traitors'  Gate. 

"  There  it  is,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  the  guide. 

"  Oh,  how  many  fair  and  stately  heads  have  passed  under 
that  awful  arch  !  "  murmured  Anna. 

As  for  Drusilla,  the  time  for  talking  of  these  things 
was  passed  with  her.  She  was  too  deeply  impressed  for 
speech. 

General  Lyon  and  Mr  Hammond  instinctively  uncovered 
their  heads  in  the  presence  of  this  dread  monument  of 
human  suffering. 

a  Yes,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  here  passed  to  their  deaths 
the  beautiful  Queen  Anne  Boleyn,  the  fair  Queen  Katha- 
rine Howard,  the  lovely  Lady  Jane  Gray,  the  courtly  Nor- 


HOW  THE  PARTED  MET.  16T 

folk,  the  accomplished  Burleigh,  the  venerable  Thomas 
More " 

"And  hundreds  and  hundreds  more — the  victims  of 
tyranny  and  bigotry,"  said  General  Lyon  cutting  short 
the  list. 

"  That's  so,  sir,"  admitted  the  guide.  "  Ah,  if  you  had 
lived  in  those  days  !  " 

"  Did  you  ?  "  inquired  Anna,  turning  upon  him. 

The  guide  smiled. 

"  I  almost  think  I  did,  ma'am,  sometimes — what  with 
living  here,  and  what  with  going  over  the  history  so  many 
times  a  day.  This  way,  ladies  and  gentlemen." 

And  he  led  the  way  from  the  Traitors'  Gate  straight 
across  the  ward  to  an  imposing  gateway  defended  by  the 
Bloody  Tower,  leading  through  the  embattled  wall  that, 
encloses  the  inner  ward. 

"  This  tower,"  said  the  guide,  "  is  the  scene  of  the  mur- 
der of  the  two  young  princes,  sons  of  Edward  the  Fourth, 
assassinated  by  order  of  their  uncle,  Richard  the  Third." 

"  Can  we  enter  and  examine  it  ?  " 

"  The  interior  is  not  shown.  It  is  occupied  by  some  of 
the  officers  of  the  guard  as  private  lodgings." 

"  Oh,  think  of  such  an  ancient  and  tragical  place  being 
occupied  as  a  dwelling,  where  people  eat,  drink,  sleep  and 
live  !  I  wonder  what  my  spiritual  condition  would  be  if  I 
lived  in  suck  a  place  ? "  said  Anna,  gazing  on  the  gray 
walls  as  she  passed  them. 

"  This  inner  wall  is  fortified  by  twelve  strong  minor 
towers,  all  of  them  formerly  used  as  prison-lodgings.  I 
will  show  the  most  interesting  of  them  as  we  go  on,"  said 
the  guide.  "  But  first  I  will  take  you  to  the  White  Tower," 
he  added,  pointing  to  the  imposing  citadel  that  occupied 
the  center. 

"  I  should  take  that  to  be  the  Tower — the  Tower  par- 
excellence.  Pray,  is  that  the  place  where  the  old  monarchs 
of  England  used  to  hold  their  court  before  Elizabeth's 
time  ?  "  inquired  Anna. 

"  No,  ma'am.  The  old  Palace  of  the  Tower  was  pulled 
down  in  the  reign  of  James  II.  It  occupied  the  south- 
east angle  of  the  inner  ward — there,  you  see,  on  the  site 
of  the  present  Ordnance  office." 


168  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  What  a  pity  a  building  so  replete  with  interesting 
associations  should  have  been  destroyed,"  said  Anna. 

"  There,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  that  modern  building 
which  you  see  against  the  south  wall  of  the  White  Tower, 
is  the  Horse  Armory,  where  the  equestrian  statues  of  our 
kings,  hi  their  ancient  armors,  are  arranged  in  state  ! " 

"Oh,  yes,  we  have  tickets  for  the  Horse  Armory — 
we  will  see  that  at  once,  if  you  please ! "  said  General 
Lyon. 

They  crossed  towards  the  White  Tower  and  the  Horse 
Armory. 

"  You  now  see  before  you,  sir,  the  oldest  and  the  new- 
est of  these  structures  joined  together.  The  White 
Tower  is  the  most  ancient  as  well  as  the  most  imposing 
of  the  buildings,"  said  the  guide. 

"  So  I  should  judge  from  its  great  size  and  central  posi- 
tion," remarked  the  General. 

"  It  was  erected,  sir,  in  1080  by  William  the  Conqueror 
as  a  stronghold  against  enemies,  the  rebellious  Saxons, 
who  opposed  his  reign.  It  is  a  magnificent  specimen  of 
Norman  architecture.  The  walls  are  of  immense  thick- 
ness and  strength.  I  will  take  you  through  it  presently  ; 
but  here  we  are  at  the  Horse  Armory,  which  is  the  most 
modern  of  all  the  tower  buildings,  quite  modern  indeed, 
a  work  of  to-day,  comparatively  speaking,  having  been 
built  in  1826.  Your  tickets,  sir,  if  you  please." 

Dick,  who  held  the  tickets,  passed  them  over  to  the 
warder,  who  at  once  led  his  party  to  an  ante-room  of  the 
Armory,  where  they  were  to  wait  for  a  new  guide  to  take 
them  through. 

"  When  you  return  here,  sir,"  said  the  guide,  "  I  shall 
be  happy  to  show  you  through  the  White  Tower,  and  all 
the  other  towers  of  the  inner  ward." 

"  Thanks,"  said  the  General. 

And  the  man  touched  his  hat  and  fell  back. 

There  were  several  other  groups  of  sight-seers  waiting 
in  the  ante-room  for  guides  to  conduct  them. 

And  presently  these  guides  appeared,  bringing  out  par- 
ties they  had  been  attending. 

One  of  them  beckoning  our  friends  to  follow  him,  led 
them  straightways  into  a  vast  hall,  some  hundred  feet  hi 
length  by  thirty  in  breadth,  dimly  lighted  on  each  side 


HOW  THE  PARTED  MET.  169 

by  stained  glass  windows  and  decorated  on  the  walls  and 
ceiling  with  the  most  curious  and  valuable  military 
trophies  and  emblems. 

In  glass  cases  under  these  windows  were  exhibited  such 
wonders  of  warlike  workmanship  as  are  nowhere  else 
gathered  together — helmets,  gauntlets,  shields,  swords, 
spears,  lances  and  other  specimens  of  armor,  won  from 
many  a  battle-field,  stormed  fortress,  or  sacked  city,  of 
all  ages  of  history  and  all  countries  of  the  world.  And 
each  curious  specimen  had  its  equally  curious  history  or 
legend. 

Yet  our  party  scarcely  glanced  at  any  of  these  or  heard 
a  word  of  the  explanation  uttered  by  their  guide. 

For  down  the  centre  of  the  vast  hall,  drawn  up  as  in 
line  of  battle,  was  a  grim  array  of  equestrian  figures, 
clothed  in  complete  steel,  being  a  line  of  the  old  kings  of 
England  from  the  time  of  Edward  the  First  to  the  time 
of  James  the  Second,  each  man  and  horse  in  the  armor 
of  his  day. 

"  This,"  said  the  guide,  pausing  before  the  first  figure, 
that  stood  upon  an  elevated  platform  at  the  head  of  the 
line,  "  is  Edward  the  First,  in  the  same  armor  he  is  said 
to  have  worn  on  his  invasion  of  Scotland.  You  perceive 
he  is  represented  as  in  the  act  of  drawing  his  sword- 
Observe,  if  you  please,  sir,  this  beautiful  specimen  of  chain, 
armor." 

Thus  the  guide  went  on  with  his  explanation  of  these 
equestrian  effigies  of  the  old  kings,  calling  the  attention 
of  his  hearers  to  the  most  remarkable  features  of  the  ex- 
hibition and  gaining  their  interest. 

Each  member  of  this  party  was  deeply  absorbed  in  the 
subject,  but  none  so  deeply  as  was  Brasilia.  Her  sus- 
ceptible nature  received  all  the  influence,  imbibed  all  the 
inspiration  of  the  scene.  Her  vivid  imagination  carried 
her  centuries  back  to  the  storied  age  in  which  all  these 
dead  and  gone  heroes  lived  and  acted. 

"  Henry  the  Sixth,"  said  the  guide,  pausing  before  the 
effigy  of  that  unhappy  king.  "  Notice,  if  you  please,  sir, 
this  splendid  specimen  of  scale-armor,  sometimes  called 
flexible  armor." 

Drusilla  gazed  on,  drinking  in  every  word  that  fell 
from  this  oracle's  lips  and  deep  in  the  romance  of  mediae- 


170  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

val  history  when,  suddenly  looking  up,  she  uttered  a 
half-suppressed  cry. 

Gone  were  the  middle  ages  with  their  tales  of  chivalry 
and  minstrelsy !  Vanished  king  and  page,  and  knight 
and  squire!  With  her  was  only  the  present — the  in- 
tensely real  present  !  For  there,  not  ten  feet  from  her, 
stood  her  husband,  Alexander  Lyon,  Lord  Killcrichtoun  ! 
His  back  was  turned  towards  her.  He  stood  over  one  of 
the  glass-cases  before  the  stained-glass  window,  examin- 
ing a  curious  Etruscan  helmet. 

At  her  half-uttered  cry  he  turned  around — and  their 
eyes  met — met  for  the  first  time  since  that  cruel  parting 
on  the  wedding-night ! 

But  he  recognized  her  with  a  cold,  uncompromising 
stare.  And  then,  seeing  that  the  regards  of  her  whole 
party  were  drawn  upon  him,  he  seemed  resolved  to  face 
the  situation.  Walking  deliberately  towards  them,  he 
f aised  his  hat  slowly,  bowed  deeply,  passed  them,  and 
went  down  to  the  opposite  end  of  the  armory. 

"  Humph,  humph,  humph,  humph  !  "  muttered  the  Gen- 
eral to  himself,  "  that  is  what  I  call  cool  impudence  ! " 

Drusilla  could  not  speak  or  move.  She  stood  trans- 
fixed and  motionless  as  any  one  of  those  grim  effigies  be- 
fore them.  She  stood  thus  until  General  Lyon  kindly 
broke  the  spell  that  bound  her,  by  lightly  laying  his  hand 
Upon  her  shoulder  and  whispering  : 

"  My  dear,  recollect  yourself !  " 

She  started,  and  recovered  her  self-possession  at  once, 
:and  hi  time  to  see  little  Lenny,  whom  Dick  led  by  the 
hand,  pulling  at  his  protector,  and  pointing  down  the 
hall,  and  shouting : 

"  Man,  man !  div  Lenny  that  hoo  !  "  putting  up  his  lips 
and  describing  in  pantomime  the  whistle  whose  name  he 
liad  forgotten. 

"  Little  Lenny  knew  him  again  ! "  murmured  Drusilla 
to  herself. 

All  this  did  not  quite  escape  the  notice  of  the  guide. 
He  saw  what  passed,  but  apparently  without  understand- 
ing it ;  for,  turning  to  General  Lyon,  he  said  : 

"  Lord  Killcrichtoun,  sir  !  His  face  is  as  well  known 
here  as  any  of  these  images.  He  is  in  almost  every 
day." 


HOW  THE  PARTED  MET.  171 

Then,  reverting  to  his  own  especial  business,  and  point- 
ing out  another  effigy,  he  said : 

"Henry  the  Eighth,  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Pray 
observe  this  magnificent  suit  of  armor,  damaskeened  or 
inlaid  with  pure  gold.  It  is  said  to  be  the  same  he  wore 
on  that  famous  occasion  of  his  meeting  with  Francis  I.  on 
the  field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold." 

"  Oh,  the  horrid  monster !  I  would  rather  look  upon 
Lucifer's  self  than  Henry  the  Eighth's  effigy !  Let  us 
pass  on,"  said  Anna  impatiently. 

And  they  passed  on,  pausing  now  and  then  to  gaze  upon 
the  armed  and  mounted  effigy  of  some  knight  or  king, 
famous  or,  perhaps,  infamous  in  history  or  tradition,  until 
they  reached  the  last  one  in  the  line — James  II. — after 
whose  day  fire-arms  came  in  and  armor  went  out. 

And  so  they  passed  from  the  Horse  Armory  to  Queen 
Elizabeth's  Armory,  occupying  an  apartment  in  the  lower 
floor  of  the  White  Tower. 

At  the  upper  end  was  an  equestrian  effigy  of  the  Royal 
Fury  of  Tudor,  who  cut  off  her  lovers'  heads  as  her 
father  before  her  had  cut  off  his  wives'.  She  was  dressed 
in  the  preposterous  costume  of  her  court,  mounted  on  a. 
carved  charger,  and  attended  by  her  page.  She  was  most 
appropriately  surrounded  by  curious  chains  and  manacles,, 
ingenious  instruments  of  torture,  and  judicial  imple- 
ments of  death. 

Conspicuous  among  these  was  the  thumb- screw,  the 
rack,  the  headsman's  axe,  and  the  heading  block  upon 
which  the  old  Lord  Lovat  and  his  companions  had  been 
decapitated. 

Here,  on  the  north  side,  was  also  a  small,  heavy  door 
leading  into  a  deep  and  narrow  dungeon  cut  in  the  thick- 
ness of  the  wall,  and  having  neither  air  nor  light  except 
that  which  entered  by  the  doorway. 

"  In  this  dismal  hole  the  accomplished  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  passed  the  long  years  of  his  imprisonment,  and 
here  he  wrote  his  History  of  the  World." 

"  He  had  leisure  enough  for  such  a  stupendous  work  ; 
but  I  don't  see  where  he  got  space  or  light  from,  or  how 
he  could  possibly  have  lived  hi  such  a  dark,  damp  den," 
said  Dick. 

"  Oh,  you  see,  sir,  it  is  to  be  supposed  that  he  was  only 


172  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

locked  in  there  at  night,  and  had  the  freedom  of  the  hall 
during  the  day." 

They  next  ascended  the  stairs  to  the  second  floor,  and 
Visited  the  ancient  Council  Chamber,  where  the  old 
Kings  held  their  Court  at  the  Tower.  This  was  the  place 
of  Anne  Boleyn's  trial.  Then  on  the  same  floor  was  St. 
John's  Chapel,  the  most  perfect  specimen  of  Norman 
architecture  in  the  country. 

All  these  tilings  Drusilla  saw  as  in  a  dream.  She  was 
thinking  only  of  her  husband  and  the  cold  stare  with 
"which  he  had  met  her  eyes. 

The  guide  led  them  from  the  White  Tower  to  the  green 
before  the  prison  chapel — St.  Peter's. 

«  Stop  here  a  moment,  if  you  please,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men," he  said. 

They  all  paused,  thinking  from  that  point  he  was  go- 
ing to  indicate  some  view  or  effect.  But  it  was  not  so. 

"  Do  you  know  where  you  stand,  ladies  ?  No  ?  Well, 
you  stand  upon  the  exact  spot  where  the  head  of  Anne 
Boleyn  fell  under  the  executioner's  stroke." 

Anna  impulsively  sprang  away.  Dick  and  the  General 
looked  interested.  But  Drusilla  heard  him  with  some- 
thing like  indifference.  Queen  Anne's  sufferings  were  so 
long  past  and  now  so  vague  ;  Drusilla's  own  were  so  pres- 
ent and  so  real.  She  was  scarcely  conscious  of  the  re- 
mainder of  her  tour  through  the  Tower  buildings. 

The  guide  led  the  party  into  St.  Peter's  chapel  ;  told 
them  it  had  been  built  in  the  reign  of  Edward  I.,  1282, 
and  showed  them  the  flag  stones  in  front  of  the  altar 
beneath  which  repose  the  remains  of  the  sainted  Lady 
Jane  Grey,  the  venerable  Thomas  Cromwell,  the  good 
and  great  Somerset,  the  accomplished  Surrey,  the  bril- 
liant Essex,  and  many  other  less  exalted  but  no  less  hon- 
orable martyrs  to  truth  and  patriotism,  victims  to  bigotry 
and  tyranny. 

Leaving  St.  Peter's  Chapel,  our  friends  made  the  cir- 
cuit of  the  twelve  minor  towers  of  the  inner  ward.  These 
in  the  "  good  old  times  "  were  all  used  as  prisons,  lodg- 
ings for  those  who  had  had  the  misfortune  to  become 
obnoxious  to  despotism  or  fanaticism. 

Among  these  the  richest  in  historic  associations  is  the 
Beauchamp  Tower,  popularly  called  the  Beechum  Tower, 


WAITING  AND  HOPING.  173 

whose  walls  are  cut  all  over  with  the  autographs  or  other 
inscriptions  of  the  illustrious  dead,  who  in  its  gloomy 
dungeons  pined  away  the  last  days  of  their  violently 
ended  lives. 

The  Brick  Tower  was  pointed  out  as  having  been  the 
prison  of  Lady  Jane  Gray  ;  the  Devereux  Tower  as  that 
of  the  Earl  of  Essex  ;  the  Bell  Tower  as  once  the  prison 
of  the  Princess  Elizabeth  when  she  was  confined  by  the 
jealousy  of  her  sister,  Queen  Mary  ;  the  Bowyer  Tower 
as  the  place  in  which  the  Duke  of  Clarence  was  drowned 
in  the  butt  of  malmsey  wine. 

But  that  which  filled  the  beholders  with  a  deeper  gloom 
than  all  the  others  was  the  Flint  Tower,  called  for  the 
superlative  horror  of  its  dungeons  the  Little  Hell. 

That  was  the  last  abyss  of  the  inferno  that  our  sight- 
seers  looked  into.  The  women,  at  least,  could  bear  no 
more. 

"  Come,"  said  Anna,  shuddering.  "  It  is  not  evening, 
so  we  have  not  '  supped,'  but  we  have  dined  '  full  of  hor- 
rors.' Let  us  leave  the  Tower  with  its  gloomy  dungeons, 
and  ghastly  memories,  and  the  Yeomen  of  the  Guard  in 
their  devil's  mourning  of  black  and  red,  for  Bloody  Henry 
Tudoc,  I  suppose ;  let  us  get  out  into  the  pure  open  air, 
and  back  to  the  wholesome  nineteenth  century." 

General  Lyon  and  Dick  liberally  remunerated  tne  civil 
and  attentive  warders,  and  the  whole  party  passed  out  of 
the  Tower  walls,  entered  their  carriage,  and  returned  1C1 
their  hotel,  where  awaited  them — a  very  great  surprise. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WAITING  AND    HOPING. 

Silence,  silence,  still,  unstirred — 

Long,  unbroken,  unexplained ; 
Not  one  word,  one  little  word 

Even  to  show  him  touched  or  pained. 
Silence,  silence,  all  unbroken — 
Not  a  sound,  a  word,  or  token — OWEN  MEREDITH. 

STILL  overshadowed  with  the  gloom  of  their  visit  to 
the  Tower,  our  party  entered  their  private  parlor  at  their 
hotel. 


174  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

They  found  their  favorite  sofa  occupied  by  a  group  of 
visitors. 

But  before  General  Lyon  had  time  to  recognize  or  wel- 
come them,  a  hearty  hand  was  clapped  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  a  cheery  voice  shouted  in  his  ear : 

"  So  here  you  are  at  last !  We  have  been  waiting  for 
you  these  two  hours." 

"  Colonel  Seymour !  "  exclaimed  General  Lyon,  in  un- 
feigned surprise  and  delight. 

"  Yes,  and  Mrs.  Seymour  and  Miss  Seymour." 

«  Old  friends,  I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

"  So  am  I  to  see  you." 

And  there  was  a  general  and  hearty  shaking  of  hands. 

tt  Now  be  seated  again  all  of  you.  When  did  you 
•arrive  ?  "  inquired  the  General. 

"  Bless  you !  just  now,  I  may  say.  Landed  at  Liver- 
pool last  night,  slept  at  the  Adelphi,  took  the  train  this 
morning  and  reached  London  this  noon." 

"  And  where  are  you  stopping  ?  " 

"  At  Mivart's  for  the  present.  And  before  we  got  set- 
tled there,  I  took  a  Hansom  cab  and  drove  off  to  the 
American  Embassy  to  inquire  where  you  hung  out.  I 
;saw  a  young  fellow  of  the  name  of  Troubador " 

"  Tredegar,"  amended  Dick. 

u  Ah  yes,  thank  you — so  it  was  Tredegar.  Well,  I  saw 
a  young  fellow  of  the  name  of  Tredegar,  who  told  me 
where  to  find  you ;  and  so  I  drove  back  to  Mivart's  as 
iast  as  ever  I  could — and  how  those  Hansom  cabs  can  fly 
over  the  ground ! — and  I  changed  my  Hansom  for  a  four 
wheeler,  and  just  giving  Nan  time  to  put  on  her  finery,  I 
took  her  and  her  mother  in  and  drove  here  !  "  exclaimed 
the  visitor,  eagerly  talking  himself  out  of  breath,  and 
briskly  wiping  his  face  with  his  pocket-handkerchief. 

"  And  we  are  all  so  charmed  to  see  you.  We  never  had 
a  more  complete  surprise,  or  a  more  delightful  one,"  said 
Anna. 

And  all  her  party  cordially  assented  to  her  words. 

"  I  hope  you  did  not  have  to  wait  for  us  long,"  said 
Dick,  anxiously. 

"  Two  mortal  hours,  I  tell  you,  at  the  risk  of  being 
turned  out  every  minute,  too." 

"  How  was  that  ?  "  quickly  inquired  the  General. 


WAITING  AND  HOPING.  175 

"  Why,  you  see,  first  of  all,  that  fellow  in  the  white 
neckcloth  and  napkin  told  me  somewhat  shortly  that  nei- 
ther General  Lyon  nor  any  of  his  party  were  at  home." 

" '  I  know  that,  because  they  are  here,'  I  answered. 

" « But  they  are  not  in,  sir,'  he  replied. 

" '  Then  we  will  wait  till  they  are,'  I  rejoined. 

« '  They'll  not  be  here,  till  five  o'clock,'  he  added. 

"  *  All  right.  We  will  sit  down  and  make  ourselves 
comfortable  until  that  hour,'  I  remarked. 

" '  That's  the  General's  dinner  hour,'  growled  the  fellow. 

" '  Which  is  extremely  lucky,  as  we  can  dine  with  him,' 
concluded  I. 

"  The  fellow  looked  as  if  he  suspected  me  of  being  the 
confidence  man,  and  meditated  calling  in  the  police.  How- 
ever he  contented  himself  with  beckoning  to  an  under 
waiter,  jerking  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  in  my  direc- 
tion, and  muttering  something  very  like  an  order  to  the 
other  one  not  to  lose  sight  of  me.  And  so  he  or  the 
other  fellow  kept  an  eye  on  me  all  the  while." 

"The  insolent  scoundrel!"  exclaimed  General  Lyon, 
indignantly. 

"  Not  at  all.  He  was  an  honest  fellow — had  your  inter- 
est at  heart  and  looked  after  it.  How  did  he  know  but  I 
might  have  walked  off  with  the  piano  ? "  answered  the- 
visitor,  patting  his  host  on  the  shoulder  to  soothe  down 
his  anger,  and  adding,  "  I  know  I,  for  one,  looked  like  a 
suspicious  party,  in  my  weather-beaten  sea-suit.  And 
just  see  what  an  old-fashioned  bonnet  my  wife  wears ;  and; 
as  for  Nanny,  I  have  a  painful  impression  that  she  is  over-i 
dressed,"  he  sighed,  glancing  from  the  rich,  light-blue 
taffeta  gown,  and  white  silk  mantle  and  bonnet  of  Miss 
Seymour's  costume  to  the  plain  grays  that  formed  the 
street  dress  of  the  other  ladies. 

"  Miss  Nanny  is  charming  in  any  style,"  said  the  Gen- 
eral, gallantly,  bowing  to  the  mortified  girl. 

«  However,"  continued  Colonel  Seymour,  "  I  was  anx- 
ious to  see  you  all,  so  I  waited.  I  suppose  if  we  had  been 
fashionable  folks  we  should  have  left  our  cards  and  gone 
away ;  but  being  plain  people,  we  preferred  to  wait  for  your 
return.  So  here  we  are,  and  here  you  are  !  We  expected 
to  see  you,  but  you  didn't  expect  to  see  us,  did  ,vou 
now?" 


176  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

«  No ;  but  we  are  not  the  less  overjoyed  on  that  ac- 
count. And  of  course  you  must  stay  and  dine  with  us." 

"  Of  course.     I  told  the  waiter  so,"  laughed  the  colonel 

"  Now,  dear  Mrs.  Seymour  and  darling  Nanny,  you 
must  both  come  up  with  Brasilia  and  myself  to  our  rooms 
to  take  off  your  bonnets,"  said  Anna,  rising  and  conduct- 
ing her  visitors  from  the  room. 

At  a  sign  from  the  General,  Dick  went  down-stairs  to 
order  some  necessary  additions  to  their  dinner,  in  honor 
of  their  guests. 

u  Now,  old  friend,  tell  me  what  put  it  into  your  head  to 
cross  the  ocean  and  give  me  this  great  pleasure  ? "  in- 
quired General  Lyon,  when  he  found  himself  alone  with 
his  neighbor. 

"Example,"  answered  Colonel  Seymour; — "nothing 
but  example.  You  and  your  family  left  the  neighborhood 
to  go  to  Europe.  And  I  and  mine  were  very  lonesome,  I 
can  tell  you,  after  you  were  all  gone.  So  one  day  I  up 
and  said  to  my  wife  : 

« '  Polly,  if  we  are  ever  to  see  the  Old  World,  we  had 
as  well  see  it  now  as  at  another  time.  We  are  not  growing 
younger,  Polly.  Indeed  I  sometimes  fancy  we  are  grow- 
ing older.' 

" '  Why,  la,  Benny,'  she  said,  '  can't  you  live  and  die 
like  your  fathers  without  leaving  your  own  country  ? ' 

"  So  I  answered  right  up  and  down : 

"  '  No,  Polly,  I  cannot.  And  as  we  must  go  to  Europe 
some  time,  to  show  jt  to  our  girl,  if  for  no  other  reason, 
we  can't  choose  a  better  time  than  this  when  our  old 
neighbors  are  over  there.  We'll  go  and  join  them  and 
have  a  good  time.' 

«  Well,  upon  the  whole,  Polly  didn't  dislike  the  idea  ot 
the  trip ;  and  as  for  Nancy,  she  was  all  for  it.  So  we  up 
and  came." 

«  You  must  have  decided  and  acted  with  great  prompti- 
tude to  be  over  here  so  soon  after  us." 

"  Didn't  we,  though !  We  set  the  house  in  order  the 
next  day,  which  was  Tuesday ;  packed  up  Wednesday, 
went  to  New  York  Thursday,  and  sailed  from  Liverpool 
on  Saturday." 

"  What !  and  had  not  previously  engaged  berths  in  your 
steamer  ?  " 


WAITING  AND  HOPING.  177 

"  No ;  didn't  know  that  was  necessary  until  I  went  into 
the  agent's  office.  And  then  it  was  by  a  stroke  of  luck  we 
got  the  rooms.  A  family  who  were  going  out  by  that 
steamer  that  day  were  unavoidably  delayed,  and  had  to 
give  up  their  berths.  And  I  engaged  them." 

"  Well,  certainly,  you  were  more  lucky  than  you  knew." 

"  Yes,  '  a  fool  for  luck,'  it  is  said." 

«  Well,  now,  neighbor,  shall  we  follow  the  example  of 
the  ladies  and  go  to  my  dressing-room  to  refresh  our 
toilets  ?  As  for  myself,  I  have  been  poking  into  the  vaults 
and  dungeons  of  the  Tower,  and  I  feel  as  if  I  were  covered 
with  the  dust  of  ages  ! " 

«  Yes,  and  I  am  just  as  unbearable  with  railway  smoke 
and  cinders." 

"  Come,  then,"  said  the  General,  rising  and  conducting 
hig  visitor  to  his  own  apartment. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards,  all  the  friends  assembled  in 
the  parlor,  where  the  table  was  laid  for  dinner. 

At  half -past  five  it  was  served.  It  consisted  of  a  boiled 
turbot  with  shrimp  sauce;  green-turtle  soup;  roasted 
young  ducks  and  green  peas  ;  pigeon-pasty  ;  cauliflowers, 
asparagus,  sea-kail  and,  in  short,  the  choice  vegetables  of 
the  month ;  and,  for  dessert,  delicate  whipped  creams, 
jellies,  and  ices,  and  candied  fruits,  and  nuts ;  and  port, 
and  sherry,  and  champagne,  and  moselle  wines. 

The  "  fellow  in  the  neckcloth  and  napkin,"  as  the  colo- 
nel described  the  waiter,  seeing  how  well  these  visitors 
were  received  by  General  Lyon  and  family,  tried  to  make 
up  for  his  mistakes  of  the  morning  by  the  most  obsequious 
attentions,  all  of  which  the  good-natured  Seymour  received 
in  excellent  part. 

Old  Seymour  was  blessed  with  a  keen  appetite  and 
a  strong  digestion.  He  had  always  enjoyed  his  homely 
farm  dinners  of  boiled  beef,  or  bacon  and  greens,  wasjied 
down  with  native  whiskey -toddy,  and  now  he  much  more 
keenly  enjoyed  the  rare  delicacies  set  before  him. 

After  coffee  was  served  they  arose  from  the  table,  and 
the  service  was  removed. 

"  I  suppose,  my  dear,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  treat  in 
the  form  of  your  sweet  music  to  be  hoped  for  this  eve- 
ning ?  "  sighed  the  colonel,  as  he  took  his  seat  in  a  resting 
chair. 
12 


178  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Why  not,  Colonel  Seymour  ?  "  smiled  Brasilia. 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure,  I  see  a  piano  in  the  room ;  but  of  course 
it  is  a  hotel  piano,  which  you  would  no  more  care  to  touch 
than  I  would  to  hear !  " 

"  Suppose  you  let  me  try  this  '  hotel  piano.'  Let  us  not 
yield  to  a  prejudice,  but  give  the  abused  thing  a  fair  trial," 
said  Drusilla,  smiling  as  she  sat  down  to  one  of  the  finest 
instruments  of  the  most  celebrated  manufacturer  in  Lon- 
don. 

She  executed  in  her  best  style  some  of  Colonel  Seymour's 
favorite  pieces.  And  the  old  colonel,  as  usual,  listened, 
entranced, 

"  Why,  that  is  one  of  the  best  toned  pianos  I  ever  heard 
in  my  life — quite  as  good  as  your  own  fine  instrument  at 
home !  "  exclaimed  the  old  man  hi  surprise.  "  But  what 
amazes  me  is  that  it  should  be  in  such  good  tone.  I  never 
could  abide  either  school  pianos  or  hotel  pianos  in  my  life 
before." 

«  This  is  neither,"  answered  Drusilla,  laughing.  "  We 
hired  this  from  a  celebrated  music-bazar." 

"  Ah,  that  accounts  for  it !  "  said  the  colonel.  "  Now, 
my  dear,  begin  again !  Consider,  I  haven't  heard  the 
sound  of  your  sweet  voice  in  song  for  a  month  before  to- 
night ! " 

"  And  that  is  just  the  reason  why  he  crossed  the  ocean, 
Drusilla,  my  dear,  and  nothing  else  in  life ! "  said  Mrs. 
Seymour.  "  He  may  talk  about  showing  Nanny  the  old 
world  and  improving  her  mind  and  all  that,  but  it's  no 
such  thing !  It  was  the  love  of  your  music  that  lured 
him  all  the  way  from  America,  like  the  lute  of  What's- 
his-name  did  the  spirits  out  of  What-do-you-call  it !  " 

Drusilla  smiled  on  the  old  lady  and  recommenced  her 
pleasant  task,  and  played  and  sang  for  the  old  gentleman 
during  the  remainder  of  the  evening. 

At  eleven  o'clock  the  visitors  arose  to  take  their  leave, 
but  of  course  did  not  do  it  immediately, — they  stood  and 
talked  for  half  an  hour  longer.  And,  in  that  standing 
conference,  it  was  arranged  that  General  Lyon  should  see 
about  getting  suitable  apartments  at  the  Morley  House 
for  the  Seymours ;  and,  if  none  should  now  be  racant, 
that  he  should  bespeak  in  advance  the  first  that  should 
be  disengaged. 


WAITING  AND  HOPING.  179 

It  was  farther  agreed  that  the  two  parties  of  friends 
should  join  company  in  all  sight-seeing  excursions,  and 
that  they  should  always  lunch  together. 

And  here  a  friendly  quarrel,  each  old  gentleman  insist- 
ing upon  being  the  permanent  host  of  the  lunch  table. 
Finally  the  dispute  ended  in  an  amicable  arrangement 
that  General  Lyon  and  Colonel  Seymour  should  each  be 
the  host  on  alternate  days. 

Then  indeed  the  Seymours  took  leave  and  departed. 

And  the  Lyons  went  to  rest. 

Drusilla  entered  her  own  bed-chamber.  Little  Lenny 
was  asleep  in  his  crib.  Pina  was  nodding  in  her  seat. 

Drusilla  had  neither  the  will  nor  the  power  to  sleep. 
She  threw  herself  in  her  resting-chair  and  gave  her  mind 
up  to  thought.  She  was  glad  to  be  alone.  The  day  had 
been  a  very  harassing  one — at  once  exciting  and  depress- 
ing in  its  events  and  experiences.  Yet  all  that  had  oc- 
curred to  her  sank  into  utter  insignificance  compared  with 
the  single  incident  of  one  instant — the  cold  stare  with 
which  her  husband  had  met  her  eyes.  More  than  all  his 
double  dealing  with  her ;  more  than  his  long  neglect  of 
her  at  Cedarwood ;  more  than  his  cruel  repudiation  of 
her  on  her  wedding  night ;  more  than  his  two  years  of 
scornful  abandonment — did  this  cold,  hard,  strange  stare 
chill  her  love  and  darken  her  faith  and  depress  her  hopes. 
Brasilia's  sad  reverie  was  interrupted  by  a  gentle  rap  at 
her  door.  It  had  been  probably  repeated  more  than  once 
before  it  broke  into  her  abstraction.  Now  thinking  it 
was  the  chamber-maid  coming  on  some  errand  connected 
with  fresh  water  or  clean  towels,  she  was  about  to  bid  the 
rapper  come  in ;  but  quickly  reflecting  that  the  hour  was 
too  late  to  expect  a  visit  from  the  damsel  hi  question,  and 
feeling  startled  at  the  thought  of  an  unknown  visitor  at 
midnight,  she  cautiously  inquired : 

"Who  is  there?" 

«*  It  is  I,  Drusa,  dear.  I  know  you  are  still  up,  for  I  see 
the  light  shining  through  your  key -hole,  and  you  never 
sleep  with  a  light  burning,"  said  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond. 

"  Come  in,  dear  Anna,"  said  Drusilla,  rising  and  open- 
ing the  door. 

"  Now,  if  you  really  prefer  to  be  alone,  tell  me  so,  my 


180  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

dear,  and  I  will  not  take  it  amiss,  but  leave  you  at  once," 
said  Anna,  hesitating,  before  she  took  the  easy-chair  of- 
fered her  by  Drusilla. 

"  No ;  how  could  you  think  so  ?  How  could  you  think 
I  could  prefer  my  own  company  to  yours  ?  I  know  you 
came  to  cheer  me  up,  and  I  feel  how  kind  you  are.  Sit 
down,  dear  Anna." 

"  Well,  Drusa,  you  have  seen  we  have  not  had  one  mo- 
ment to  ourselves  to-day;  and  we  may  not  have  to- 
morrow. I  knew — I  felt  instinctively  that  you  would  be 
too  much  excited  to  sleep  to-night,  so  I  came  to  you,  my 
dear — partly,  as  you  say,  to  cheer  you  up,  but  partly,  also, 
to  talk  of  something  that  happened  to-day." 

"  Yes — thank  you,  dear  Anna." 

"  You  have  confidence  enough  in  me,  I  hope,  Drusilla, 
to  feel  that  you  and  I  can  talk  upon  some  ticklish  sub- 
jects without  offence,  since  I  speak  only  in  your  interest." 

"  Yes,  Anna." 

"  Well,  then,  we  met  Alick  in  the  Tower.  That  seems 
certain.  But  did  I  hear  and  see  right,  and  did  the  guide 
point  out  our  Alick  and  called  him  Lord  Kilcrackam  ?  " 

"  Lord  Killcrichtoun.     Yes,  Anna." 

"  And  furthermore,  did  I  dream  it,  or  did  I  hear  some- 
thing said  between  you  and  grandpa — something  that  did 
not  reach  my  ears  quite  distinctly,  because  I  was  not  very 
near  you  at  the  time,  and  you  spoke  quite  low,  as  you 
always  do — something  in  short,  to  the  effect  that  our 
Alick  is  the  same  young  American  gentleman  who  claimed 
a  certain  Scotch  barony  in  right  of  his  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  Alick  who  claimed,  and  made  good  his 
claim  to  the  barony  of  Killcrichtoun.  I  should  have 
thought  Dick,  as  much  as  he  is  about  town,  would  have 
found  it  out  before  this." 

"Oh  dear,  no,  he  has  not.  It  would  have  been  the 
merest  chance  if  he  had,  in  a  town  where  there  is  so 
much  more — so  very  much  more — to  be  talked  about 
than  a  young  man's  succession  to  a  petty  lordship.  By 
the  way,  how  did  you  know  it,  Drusilla  ?  " 

"  The  first  day  of  our  being  here  I  was  standing  at  the 
front  window  and  saw  him  leave  the  house  and  walk 
across  the  square.  I  was  very  much  startled,  and  called 
the  waiter,  and,  pointing  to  Alick,  inquired  if  that  gentle- 


WAITING  AND  HOPING.  181 

man  were  stopping  here.  The  man  told  me  that  he  was 
here  for  the  present,  but  would  leave  in  the  evening,  and 
that  he  was  Lord  Killcrichtoun.  And  then  there  flashed 
upon  me  all  at  once  the  idea  that  he  was  the  very  same 
young  American  gentleman  who  had  claimed  the  title." 

"  And  you  never  told  us  about  it,"  said  Anna,  in  sur- 
prise. 

« I — shrank  from  the  subject ;  and,  besides,  I  did  not 
think  you  would  care  to  hear.  You  remember  little 
Lenny's  losing  a  lock  of  hair  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  and  it  was  cut  off  by  his  father,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  Yes,  in  the  absence  of  Pina,  and  while  Lenny  was  in 
the  temporary  charge  of  the  chambermaid." 

"  And  you  never  mentioned  it  to  us." 

"  Dear  Anna,  you  know  I  never  bring  up  Alick's  name 
unnecessarily." 

«  Well,  but  I  must  tell  Dick  aU  about  it  if  you  have  no 
objection." 

"  None  in  the  world.     I  wish  him  to  know  it." 

"  But  I  am  astonished  at  Alexander,  merging  the 
honest  manliness  of  an  American  citizen  in  the  empty 
title  of  a  Scotch  barony !  However,  it  is  all  of  a  piece 
with  his  late  mad  proceedings.  Now,  there,  I  see  from 
your  reproving  countenance  that  I  must  utter  no  more 
blasphemies  against  your  idol ;  but  now  if  the  divine 
Alexander  is  Lord  Killcrichtoun,  what  are  you,  my 
dear?" 

Drusilla  looked  up  with  a  startled  expression,  then  re- 
flected a  few  moments,  and  finally  answered : 

"  I  am  his  wife :  beyond  that  I  have  never  thought." 

"  You  are  Lady  Killcrichtoun ;  and  now  here  is  the 
difficulty :  Your  cards  bear  the  name  Mrs.  Alexander 
Lyon.  Everywhere  my  grandfather  has  introduced  you 
as  such  ;  all  the  invitations  sent  you  are  addressed  to  you 
by  that  name  :  and  more,  our  lady  ambassadress  expects 
to  present  you  at  her  Majesty's  next  drawing-room  as 
Mrs.  Alexander  Lyon.  Now  what's  to  be  done  about 
that  ?  " 

Drusilla  did  not  answer,  but  she  reflected — so  long  that 
Anna  broke  in  upon  her  meditation  with  the  question : 

"You  have  a  right  to  share   your  husband's  title — a 


182  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

right  of  which  he  cannot  deprive  you,  for  it  is  legally 
your  own.  Shall  we  not  then  introduce  you  as  Lady 
Killcrichtoun  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Brasilia,  gravely.  "  The  name  I  now 
bear  is  also  legally  my  own,  having  been  given  me  by  my 
husband  in  our  marriage.  I  will  retain  it.  I  will  never 
attempt  to  share  his  new  rank  until  he  himself  shall  give 
me  leave  to  do  so.  If,  without  his  sanction,  I  were  to  take 
my  part  in  his  title,  I  should  seem  to  be  pursuing  him7 
which  I  will  never  consent  to  do,  dear  Anna." 

"  But  then,  my  dear,  do  you  consider  that  if  you  refuse 
to  do  this,  you  will  enter  society  in  some  degree  under 
false  colors." 

"  Dear  Anna,  there  is  no  necessity  for  my  entering  soci- 
ety at  all.  I  would  rather  live  in  seclusion  as  Brasilia 
Lyon  than  go  into  the  world  as  Lady  Killcrichtoun,  and 
of  course  I  can  live  so." 

"  And  if  you  do  live  so,  you  will  never  see  Alick  ;  but  if 
you  go  out,  you  will  meet  him  every  day  ;  for  of  course 
he  is  the  gayest  man  about  town  here,  as  he  used  to  be  at 
home.  And  you  may  depend  he  will  be  received  every- 
where ;  for  in  this  country  a  title  is  a  title,  and  though 
the  barony  of  Killcrichtoun  may  not  be  worth  five  hun- 
dred a  year,  Alick  has  an  enormous  outside  fortune,  which 
fact  cannot  be  hid  under  a  bushel.  And  going  about  as 
he  does,  alone,  he  will  be  thought  a  single  man,  and,  under 
all  the  supposed  circumstances,  a  very  eligible  match. 
Now,  Brusa,  if  I  were  you,  I  would  put  a  stop  to  all  that 
by  going  constantly  into  society,  and  going  too  as  Lady 
Killcrichtoun." 

"  No,"  repeated  Brasilia,  "  I  will  never  share  his  title 
until  he  authorizes  me  to  do  so.  And  as  to  going  out 
under  my  present  name,  I  will  be  guided  by  General 
Lyon.  As  he  is  responsible  for  me,  he  must  be  the  final 
judge  in  this  matter." 

"  So  this  is  your  decision  ?  " 

«  Yes,  dear  Anna." 

They  might  have  talked  longer,  but  Pina,  who  had  been 
fast  asleep  in  her  chair  all  this  time,  now  tumbled  off  it 
and  fell  upon  the  floor  with  a  noise  that  terrified  both 
the  friends  and  started  them  upon  their  feet. 

"It  is  only  that  girl — how  she  frightened  me !  I  thought 


WAITING  AND  HOPING.  183 

it  was  some  one  breaking  into  the  room ! "  exclaimed 
Anna,  trembling  as  Pina  picked  herself  up  and  stood 
staring  in  dismay. 

"  Poor  girl !  how  thoughtless  of  me  to  have  forgotten 
her  !  Go  to  bed,  Pina,  it  is  half-past  twelve,"  said  Brasilia, 
kindly. 

And  the  maid,  still  more  than  half  asleep,  tumbled  off 
to  her  cot  in  a  closet  adjoining  her  mistress's  chamber. 

Anna  also  arose,  and,  bidding  Brasilia  good-night, 
passed  to  her  own  room. 

Brasilia  went  to  bed.  but  not  to  sleep.  She  lay  revolv- 
ing the  problem  that  Anna  had  left  her  to  solve.  Should 
she  enter  London  society  at  all  under  her  present  circum- 
stances ? 

As  yet,  neither  her  party  nor  herself  had  gone  to  any 
sort  of  private  entertainment.  They  had  left  cards  on 
the  people  to  whom  the  General  had  letters  of  intro- 
duction. And  they  had  received  calls  from  many  of 
them.  Also  they  had  many  notes  of  invitation  to  dinners, 
balls,  concerts,  and  fetes  of  every  description ;  but,  as  yet, 
none  of  these  notes  had  fallen  due.  So  Brasilia  stood 
uncommitted  to  the  world  by  either  name  or  title. 

Now  the  question  with  her  was  this, — Should  she  go  to 
parties  at  all  ? 

If  she  should,  she  was  resolved  it  should  be  only  under 
her  simple  name.  But  then,  if  being  the  wife  of  Lord 
Killcrichtoun,  she  should  go  only  as  Mrs.  Lyon,  would 
she  not  be,  as  Anna  said,  appearing  under  false  colors  ? 

Would  it  not  be  better,  all  things  considered,  that  she 
should  live  secluded  ? 

Ah,  but  then  Alexander  was  in  the  world,  and  the 
temptation  to  go  where  she  might  enjoy  the  happiness 
of  seeing  him  daily,  even  though  he  should  never  speak  to 
her,  was  irresistible !  She  could  not  deny  herself  that 
delight. 

Then,  finally,  she  determined  to  speak  to  her  old  friend, 
General  Lyon,  on  the  subject ;  and  with  her  mind  more  at 
she  fell  asleep. 


184  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MEETING  EVERY  DAY. 

We  that  were  friends,  ret  are  not  now, 

We  that  must  daily  meet, 
With  ready  words  and  courteous  bow, 

Acquaintance  of  the  street, 
We  must  not  scorn  the  holy  past, 

We  must  remember  still 
To  honor  feelings  that  outlast 

The  reason  and  the  will.— MILNES. 

NEXT  morning,  over  an  early  breakfast,  our  party  dis- 
cussed, with  their  tea,  toast,  muffins,  and  fried  soles,  the 
programme  of  the  week. 

How  crowded  their  life  hi  London  was  getting  to  be. 
Every  day,  every  hour,  nay,  every  moment,  we  might 
say,  pre-engaged ! 

We  go  to  Westminster  Abbey  first.  The  Seymours  are 
to  go  with  us,  and  are  to  join  us  here  at  ten  o'clock.  It  is 
After  nine  now,"  said  the  General,  as  he  chipped  his  egg. 

"  They  will  not  be  behind  time,  you  may  depend  on  it," 
feughed  Dick.  "We  shall  be  able  to  get  off  by  ten 
o'clock,  and  get  into  the  Abbey  by  a  quarter  past.  It 
will  take  us  at  least  three  hours  to  do  Westminster,  which 
will  bring  one  o'clock  or  a  little  later,  when  we  can  get 
lunch  at  Simmon's,  in  Threadneedle  Street, — an  old-es- 
tablished house,  celebrated  for  its  green  turtle  and  its 
punch  this  century  past.  After  which  we  will  still  have 
time  to  see  St.  Paul's,  and  to  get  home  in  season  for  our 
five  o'clock  dinner." 

"  And  remember,  Dick,  that  we  must  not  be  later,  for 
we  have  a  box  this  evening  at  Drury  Lane,  to  see  the 
Keans." 

"  All  right,  Anna !  we  are  not  likely  to  forget  that." 

"  And  let  us  see !  what  is  the  programme  for  to-mor- 
row ?  "  inquired  the  General. 

UI  do  not  think  that  has  been  arranged  yet,"  said 
Drusilla. 


MEETING  EVERY  DAY.  185 

«  Then  let  it  be  the  British  Museum  and  the  Royal 
Academy." 

M  Oh,  no,  grandpa !  We  must  go  to  Windsor  to-morrow ; 
and  I'll  tell  you  why.  It  will  take  a  whole  day  and  night 
to  go  to  Windsor,  see  it  all,  and  return.  And  to-morrow 
is  the  only  whole  day  we  have  at  our  disposal.  For  on 
Thursday  we  are  engaged  to  dinner  at  Lord  Esteppe's, 
and  to  a  concert  at  Mrs.  Marcourt's.  On  Friday  we  are 
to  breakfast  with  the  Warrens  and  to  go  to  a  ball  at  our 
Minister's ;  and  on  Saturday  we  are  promised  to  the 
Whartons  for  their  fete  at  Richmond.  Now  out  of  either 
of  these  days  we  might  take  a  few  hours  to  see  any 
London  sights ;  but  for  Windsor  we  must  have  an  un- 
broken day,  and  to-morrow  is  the  only  one  of  this  week, 
or  of  next  week  either  for  that  matter,  left  at  our  dis- 
posal." 

"  That  is  very  true,  my  dear.  Bless  my  soul,  how  we 
are  crowded  with  engagements  !  It  is  very  nattering,  of 
course,  and  very  pleasant,  I  suppose ;  but — it  is  just  a  little 
harassing  also.  Dick,  have  you  ordered  a  barouche  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  but  I  have  finished  breakfast,  and  if  you  will 
excuse  me  I  will  go  and  do  so  now ;  or,  rather,  I  mean  I 
will  walk  around  to  the  livery  stable  and  choose  a  good 
one  myself,"  answered  Mr.  Hammond,  rising  from  the 
table  and  leaving  the  room. 

With  an  excuse  for  her  absence,  Anna  followed  him. 

As  the  General  was  still  toying  with  his  breakfast, 
Brasilia  lingered  to  keep  him  company. 

The  waiter  had  retired  and  the  two  were  alone,  a  cir- 
cumstance so  unusual,  and  so  unlikely  to  happen  again, 
that  Brasilia  thought  this  to  be  her  best  opportunity  for 
consulting  him  upon  the  difficulty  that  now  perplexed 
her  mind. 

So  while  the  old  gentleman  sat  trifling  with  a  delicate 
section  of  his  fried  sole,  Brasilia  abruptly  entered  upon 
the  subject : 

"  Uncle,  we  are  all  invited  to  a  great  many  places ;  and 
we  have  accepted  all  the  invitations.  But  before  I  go  to 
any  party  I  would  like  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  talk  away !  what  is  it  about  ? "  in- 
quired the  old  man,  somewhat  surprised  by  the  gravity 
of  her  manner. 


186  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Uncle,  is  it  quite  right  that  I,  a  forsaken  wife,  should 
go  so  much  into  the  world  ?  " 

"  My  child,  I  thought  that  question  had  been  asked  and 
answered  two  years  ago  at  Old  Lyon  Hall." 

"  So  it  was,  you  dear  uncle,  answered  in  a  way  to  give 
me  pleasure  as  well  as  peace.  But  the  circumstances  are 
different  now  from  what  they  were  then.  Then  we  were 
in  your  own  familiar  neighborhood,  among  your  own  old 
country  friends  and  neighbors,  who  loved  and  honored 
you  so  much  that  they  would  have  received  with  gladness 
and  courtesy  any  one  whom  you  might  choose  to  present 
as  a  member  of  your  family.  But  here,  dear  uncle,  it 
is  different ;  we  are  in  a  foreign  city  and  among  stran- 
gers." 

"  Yes,  my  child,  but  among  strangers  who  are  hospit- 
able and  courteous ;  and  to  whom  I  have  brought  such 
letters  of  introduction  as  must  secure  a  hearty  welcome 
both  to  myself  and  every  member  of  my  family.  Have 
no  fears  or  doubts,  little  Drusa.  You  who  are  blameless 
must  not  be  '  sent  to  Coventry  '  as  if  you  were  faulty." 

Drusilla  sighed  and  continued  : 

"  Uncle,  there  is  another  circumstance  that  complicates 
the  case  very  much." 

«  Well,  my  dear,  and  what  is  it?  " 

"  At  home  I  was  known  as  Mrs.  Lyon,  which  was  my 
true  name ;  but  here,  since  Alick  has  made  good  his  claim 
to  the  Scotch  barony,  I  have  another  name  and  title," 
said  Drusilla,  so  solemnly  that  the  General  laid  down  his 
fork  and  laughed  heartily  as  he  answered : 

"  And  so,  my  dear,  you  want  us  to  introduce  you  as 
Lady  Killcrichtoun ! " 

"  Oh,  no,  wo,  NO  ! "  exclaimed  Drusilla,  earnestly,  "  not 
so !  I  do  not  want  that !  I  would  not  consent  to  it ! 
Indeed  I  would  not !  Anna  can  tell  you  that  I  said  so 
last  night ! " 

"  And  you  are  right,  my  child,  entirely  right ;  and  I 
commend  your  good  sense  in  making  such  a  resolution. 
But  where  then  is  your  difficulty,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Why,  just  in  this — my  husband  being  now  Lord  Kill- 
crichtoun, would  I  not,  by  entering  society  as  Mrs.  Lyon, 
be  appearing  under  false  colors ;  and  rather  than  do  that 
liad  I  not  better  eschew  society  altogether  ?  " 


MEETING  EVERY  DAY.  187 

"  No,  my  dear ;  a  thousand  noes  to  both  your  questions ! 
You  are  known  to  yourself  and  to  your  nearest  relations 
and  best  friends,  and  to  myself  who  introduce  and  en- 
dorse you,  as  Mrs.  Lyon.  And  by  that  name  I  shall 
continue  to  call  you  and  to  present  you.  Who  knows 
you  to  be  Lady  Killcrichtoun  ?  or  even  Alick  to  be  Lord 
Killcrichtoun  ?  Do  you  know  it  ?  Do  I  ?  Does  he  him- 
self? He  calls  himself  so ;  but  that  don't  prove  it  is  so. 
The  newspapers  affirm  it ;  but  that  don't  prove  it.  The 
world  accepts  him  as  such ;  but  that  don't  prove  either — 
at  least  to  us  who  have  always  known  him  only  as  Mr. 
Lyon,  and  haven't  examined  the  evidences  that  he  is  any- 
body else.  Similarly  we  have  known  you  only  as  Mrs. 
Lyon,  and  shall  take  you  with  us  everywhere  and  in- 
troduce you  as  such  ;  at  least  until  Alick  himself  assures 
to  you  your  other  title." 

"  Thank  you,  dear  uncle.  Again  your  decision  has 
given  me  pleasure  as  well  as  peace.  I  did  wish  to  go 
everywhere  with  you  and  Anna  ;  but  I  was  resolved  to 
go  only  as  Mrs.  Lyon,  though  I  was  afraid  that  by  doing 
so  I  should  appear  under  false  colors.  But  your  clear 
and  wise  exposition  has  set  all  my  anxieties  at  rest.  I  am 
glad  you  still  wish  me  to  go  into  company,"  said  Drusilla, 
earnestly. 

"My  dear,  I  have  a  motive  for  wishing  you  to  go. 
Drusilla,  my  child,  you  and  I  may  surely  confide  in  each 
other  ?  "  • 

"  As  the  dearest  father  and  child,  dear  uncle,  yes." 

"  Then,  Drusa,  my  darling,  in  these  two  years  that  you 
have  been  with  us,  I  have  studied  you  to  some  purpose. 
I  see  you  very  cheerful,  my  child,  but  I  know  that  you 
are  not  quite  happy.  Something  is  wanting,  and  of  course 
I  see  what  it  is ; — it  is  Alexander,  since  you  still  love  him 
with  unchanging  constancy." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  yes,"  breathed  Drusilla,  in  a  very  low 
tone. 

M I  know  you  do.  Well,  as  you  love  Alick,  so  he  needs 
you,  whether  he  knows  it  or  not.  You  are  the  angel  of 
his  life,  and  the  only  power  under  Heaven  that  can  save 
him.  I  know  Alexander  well.  I  have  known  him  from 
his  infancy,  and  of  course  I  know  all  the  strong  and  all 
the  weak  points  in  his  character." 


188  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Brasilia  raised  her  eyes  to  the  old  man's  face  with  a 
deprecating  and  pleading  expression. 

"  Fear  nothing,  my  child  ;  I  am  not  going  to  abuse  him, 
at  least  not  to  you  ;  in  saying  that  he  has  his  weak  points, 
I  say  no  more  of  him  than  I  might  say  of  myself  or  any 
other  man.  But  it  is  through  their  weakness  men  are 
often  saved  as  well  as  through  their  strength.  Listen  to 
me,  my  dear  Brasilia."' 

"  I  am  listening,  sir." 

u  Well,  then,  Alick's  chief  weakness  is  that  he  can  only 
admire  through  the  eyes  of  the  world,  for  which  he  has 
always  had  the  greatest  veneration." 

"  Do  you  think  so,  sir  ?  Ah,  surely  he  was  not  consid- 
ering the  world's  opinion  when  he  married  me,  his  house- 
keeper's daughter,"  pleaded  Brasilia. 

**  No ;  passion,  if  he  is  capable  of  feeling  at  all,  makes 
even  a  worldly  man  forget  the  world  sometimes.  And, 
pardon  me,  my  dear  Brasilia,  if  I  say  that  he  married  you 
for  your  personal  attractions,  for  your  perfect  beauty  and 
brilliant  genius — of  that  in  your  nature  which  is  fairer 
than  beauty  and  brighter  than  genius,  and  better  and 
lovelier  than  both,  he  knew  nothing  at  all ;  he  has  yet  to 
learn  of  them." 

Brasilia,  blushing  deeply  under  this  praise,  which  was 
but  just  tribute,  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  floor.  Gen- 
eral Lyon  continued : 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  he  is  worldly — he  worships  the  world 
and  sees  through  the  eyes  of  the  world.  What  was  it 
that  blinded  him  to  your  sweet  domestic  virtues  and 
tempted  him  from  your  side  ?  It  was  the  brilliant  social 
success  of  Anna — of  Anna,  for  whom  he  cared  not  a  cent, 
and  whom  he  had  really  jilted  for  your  sake ;  but  with 
whom  he  actually  fancied  himself  in  love  as  soon  as  he 
found  her  out  to  be  belle  of  the  season,  the  queen  of 
fashion,  and  all  that  ephemeral  rubbish." 

Brusilla  sighed,  but  made  no  answer. 

"  He  has  got  over  all  that  nonsense,  believe  me.  He 
regards  Anna  now,  probably,  very  much  as  he  did  when  he 
jilted  her  for  you  and  before  her  splendid  season  hi 
Washington  had  so  dazzled  and  maddened  him.  He  has 
gotten  over  that  nonsense ;  but  not  over  the  worldliness 
that  led  him  into  it;  for  that  is  a  part  of  his  nature. 


MEETING  EVERY  DAY.  189 

And  now,  Dnisa,  I  will  tell  you  why  I  wish  to  introduce 
you  into  the  most  fashionable  society  here." 

Drusilla  looked  up  with  eager  attention. 

"  Because  in  society  here  you  are  sure  to  eclipse  Anna 
and  every  other  beauty  of  her  type." 

"  Oh,  uncle ! " 

"  My  dear,  I  am  speaking  fact,  not  flattery.  Anna  is 
beautiful ;  we  will  grant  that ;  but  she  is  of  that  large, 
fair  style,  so  rare  in  our  country  that  it  made  her  a  belle 
there,  but  which  is  too  common  here  to  make  her  more 
than  one  of  the  pretty  women  of  the  season.  On  the  con- 
trary, your  style,  Drusilla,  more  common  hi  America,  is 
extremely  rare  here.  You  will  be  new.  You  will  make 
what  women  call  a  '  sensation.'  Alick  will  see  it,  and  he 
will  discover  his  folly,  if  he  never  finds  out  his  sin  in 
having  left  you.  There,  Drusilla  !  there  is  the  old  man's 
policy,  worthy  of  a  maneuvering  chaperon,  is  it  not  ?  " 

Drusilla  knew  not  what  to  reply.  For  her  own  part 
she  didn't  like  anything  that  savored  of  "  policy."  She 
longed — oh,  how  intensely ! — for  a  reconciliation  with  her 
husband ;  it  was  her  one  thought  by  day,  her  one  dream 
by  night,  her  one  aspiration  in  life  !  but  she  did  not  want 
it  brought  about  by  any  sort  of  maneuvering.  Perhaps 
the  General  read  her  thoughts,  for  he  said  earnestly : 

"  I  see  you  do  not  quite  approve  my  plan,  dear  child. 
You  would  rather  Alick's  own  better  nature  should  bring 
him  back  to  his  wife  and  babe  ;  but  ah,  my  dear,  who  can 
appeal  to  that  better  nature  so  successfully  as  yourself  ? 
and  how  can  you  ever  appeal  to  it  unless  you  have  him 
to  yourself?  And  how  can  you  have  him,  unless  you 
attract  him  in  the  way  I  suggest.  Let  him  see  you  ap- 
preciated by  others,  that  he  may  learn  to  appreciate  you 
himself.  Let  him  seek  you  because  others  admire  you ; 
and  then  when  you  have  him  again,  you  may  trust  your 
own  love  to  win  his  heart  forever ! — But  here  is  Dick, 
and,  bless  me,  yes;  here  are  all  the  Seymours,  at  his 
heels ! " 

Colonel  Seymour  and  his  family  entered,  marshalled 
in  by  Dick.  And  there  were  cordial  morning  salutations 
and  hand-shakings. 

The  carriages  were  waiting.  Drusilla  ran  off  to  call 
Anna  and  to  put  on  her  own  bonnet. 


190  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

And  in  a  few  minutes  the  whole  party  started  on  their 
sightseeing  excursion. 

The  programme  of  the  day  was  carried  out.  They 
went  just  to  Westminster  Abbey  and  saw  there  the 
wonders  and  beauties  of  several  successive  orders  of 
architecture.  They  saw  the  most  ancient  chapel  of 
Edward  the  Confessor,  containing  the  tomb  of  that  Royal 
Saint,  and  the  old  coronation  chair  and  other  memorials 
of  the  Saxon  kings,  and  the  remains  of  many  of  their 
Norman  successors. 

They  saw  the  splendid  chapel  of  Henry  the  Seventh, 
with  the  beautiful  tomb  of  that  fierce  paladin,  conqueror 
of  Richard  Third,  and  founder  of  the  sanguinary  Tudor 
dynasty ;  and  of  his  meek  consort,  Elizabeth  of  York,  sur- 
named  the  Good.  And  there  also  they  saw,  oh  strange 
juxta  position !  the  tombs  of  that  beautiful  Mary  Stuart, 
and  of  her  rival  and  destroyer,  the  ruthless  Elizabeth 
Tudor;  and  the  tombs  of  many  other  royal  and  noble 
celebrities  besides. 

And  they  examined  many  other  chapels,  filled  with 
the  monuments  and  memorials  of  kings  and  queens, 
knights  and  ladies,  heroes  and  martyrs,  poets  and  philos- 
ophers, who  had  adorned  the  history  of  the  country  and 
of  the  world,  from  the  foundation  of  the  Abbey  to  the 
present  time. 

At  one  o'clock,  before  they  had  inspected  one-tenth 
part  of  the  interesting  features  of  this  venerable  edifice, 
they  took  leave  of  Westminster  Abbey,  promising  them- 
selves another  and  a  longer  visit,  and  they  went  to  "  Sim- 
mons' "  to  lunch. 

At  two  o'clock  they  visited  St.  Paul's  Cathedral. 

Time  and  space  would  fail  us  here  to  give  the  slightest 
outline  of  the  wonders  of  that  most  wonderful  cathedral. 
The  mere  ascent  of  St.  Paul's  from  the  crypt  to  the  cupola 
might  be,  in  some  degree,  compared  to  the  ascent  of  Mont 
Blanc — at  least  in  toil  and  fatigue,  if  not  in  danger  and 
distance.  To  give  the  most  cursory  description  of  its  mar- 
vels of  architecture,  sculpture,  paintings  and  decorations, 
would  fill  volumes  and  be  out  of  place  here.  After  three 
or  four  hours  spent  there,  our  party  returned  to  their 
hotel,  utterly  wearied,  dazzled  and  distracted ;  and  with 
only  two  images  standing  out  distinctly  from  the  magni- 


THE  AMBASSADRESS'  BALL.  191 

ficent  chaos  in  their  minds — the  mausoleums  of  Lord  Nel- 
son and  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  the  great  sailor 
and  the  great  soldier  of  England  standing  side  by  side  in 
the  crypt  of  the  Cathedral. 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  General,  that  evening  over  his  cup 
of  tea,  "  when  we  laid  out  our  plans  for  this  week  we  had 
no  idea  what  was  before  us  !  No  wise  man  crowds  so  much 
sight-seeing  into  so  little  time.  It  is  as  wrong  to  surfeit 
the  brain  as  it  is  to  overload  the  stomach.  As  for  me  I 
am  suffering  from  a  mental  indigestion,  and  I  would  rather 
not  attempt  Windsor  Castle,  or  any  other  stupendous 
place  or  thing,  until  I  have  got  over  Westminster  Abbey 
and  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  So  what  do  you  say  to  post- 
poning all  sight-seeing  for  the  remainder  of  this  week  ?  " 

Brasilia  and  Anna  eagerly  assented  ;  for,  in  truth,  they 
wanted  some  leisure  for  shopping  and  for  arranging  toilets 
in  which  to  appear  at  the  minister's  ball.  And  Dick  was 
too  polite  to  offer  any  opposition. 

So  the  next  day,  while  the  General  and  Dick  stayed  at 
home  to  lounge,  read,  or  smoke,  Anna  and  Drusilla  drove 
to  the  West  End,  and  ransacked  all  the  most  fashionable 
stores  in  Oxford,  Regent,  and  Bond  streets  in  search  of 
new  styles  of  flowers,  laces,  gloves,  and  so  forth. 

And  never  did  the  vainest  young  girl,  in  her  first  season, 
evince  more  anxiety  about  her  appearance  than  did  poor 
Drusilla,  who  was  not  vain  at  all.  But  then  the  young 
wife  knew  that  she  would  be  sure  to  meet  her  husband  at 
the  minister's  ball,  and  that  her  future  happiness  might 
depend  upon  so  small  a  circumstance  as  the  impression 
she  might  make  there.  For  once  in  her  innocent  life,  but 
for  his  sake  only,  she  longed  for  a  social  triumph. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

TELE  AMBASSADBESS'  BALL. 

I  do  not  question  what  thou  art, 
Nor  what  thy  life  in  great  or  small ; 

Thou  art,  I  know,  what  all  my  heart, 
Must  beat  or  break  for.    That  is  all. 

— OWEN  MEREDITH. 

THB  front  of  that  handsome  house  in  Cavendish  Square, 
known  then  as  the  American  Embassy,  blazed  with  light. 


192  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Not  only  the  street  before  it,  but  the  cross-streets  around 
the  corners  were  thronged  with  carriages. 

Our  Ambassadress  was  giving  her  first  ball  of  the  season 
and  the  elite  of  London  were  to  honor  it  with  their  pres- 
ence. 

Many  another  house  would  have  been  crowded  to  suffo- 
cation with  the  company  that  assembled  in  this ;  but  here, 
so  spacious  were  the  corridors  and  staircases,  so  very  spa- 
cious the  halls  and  saloons,  that  the  seven  hundred  fair  and 
noble  guests  wandered  through  the  decorated  and  illumined 
rooms,  refreshed  by  pleasant  breezes  and  inspired  by  de- 
lightful music,  and  all  without  the  usual  accidents  of 
crushed  toilets  and  crossed  tempers. 

In  the  first  reception  room,  near  the  entrance  door, 
stood  the  distinguished  ambassador  and  his  accomplished 
wife  receiving  their  friends  with  their  usual  cordiality. 
The  ambassador  wore  the  dress  of  a  plain  American  citi- 
zen ;  the  ambassadress  was  resplendent  in  mazarine  blue 
velvet  and  diamonds. 

At  about  half-past  ten  o'clock  General  Lyon  and  his 
party  were  announced  and  entered  the  first  reception 
room.  The  General  and  his  nephew  wore  the  stereotyped 
evening  costume  of  gentlemen — the  black  dress-coat  and 
black  pantaloons  and  the  white  vest  and  white  kid  gloves. 

Anna  wore  a  mauve  crepe,  looped  up  with  white  roses ; 
and  white  roses  in  her  hair  and  in  her  bosom,  and  pearls 
and  amethysts  on  her  neck  and  arms. 

Brasilia's  toilette  was  perfect.  It  was  a  full  dress 
of  priceless  point  lace  over  a  pale  maize  colored  silk. 
In  her  hair,  on  her  bosom,  and  looping  up  her  dress, 
were  clusters  of  snowdrops  and  crocuses,  sprinkled  with 
the  dewdrops  of  fine  diamonds.  The  effect  of  this  simple 
and  elegant  toilette  was  rich,  delicate  and  beautiful  be- 
yond comparison. 

General  Lyon  and  his  young  friends  had  to  stand  a  few 
moments,  while  a  group  who  had  passed  in  before  them 
paused  to  pay  their  respects  to  the  host  and  hostess. 

At  length,  when  their  own  turn  came,  the  General  took 
precedence  of  his  nephew  and  led  Brasilia  up  to  the 
ambassadress.  First  he  shook  hands  heartily  with  his 
old  friend  the  ambassador  and  bowed  to  the  ambassadress, 
and  then  presented  Brasilia  as : 


THE  AMBASSADRESS'  BALL.  193 

«  My  niece,  Mrs.  Lyon." 

Brasilia  curtsied  deeply,  and  the  minister  and  his  wife 
received  her  kindly.  And  after  a  few  commonplace  cour- 
tesies the  General  passed  on  to  make  room  for  Dick  and 
Anna,  and  also  to  look  out  for  some  of  his  own  friends  in 
the  crowd. 

But  ah!  what  a  suppressed  buzz  went  through  the 
room  as  the  veteran  passed,  with  the  newest  beauty  of  the 
season  hanging  on  his  arm. 

"  What  an  exquisite  young  creature !  *  lisped  young 
Leslie  of  the  Guards. 

"  Who  is  she  then  ?  "  inquired  Beresford  of  the  Hus- 
sars. 

"  Don't  know,  I  am  sure.  Does  anybody  here  ?  Do 
you,  Kill.  ?  You  look  as  if  you  did,"  said  Leslie,  turning 
to  Lord  Killcrichtoun,  who  was  standing  like  a  statue 
staring  after  the  retreating  form  of  General  Lyon  and 
Drusilla,  who  were  speedily  lost  in  the  crowd. 

The  question  recalled  him  to  himself. 

«  Do  I — what  ?  "  he  inquired,  with  assumed  carelessness. 

"  Do  you  know  that  lovely  girl  who  passed  just  now, 
hanging  on  the  arm  of  that  tall,  gray-haired  old  gentle- 
man ?  " 

"  What  girl  ?    I  noticed  no  girl  particularly. 

"  Chut !  are  you  subject  to  catalepsy,  Kill.  ?  "  laughed 
Leslie. 

"  But  who  can  she  be?  Some  girl  that  is  just  out,  I 
suppose.  Somebody  must  know.  Let's  go  and  ask  Harry. 
He  knows  everything,"  said  Beresford,  moving  off. 

"  Stop — find  out  who  the  old  gentleman  is  first.  He 
looks  like  a  foreigner,  and  she  must  be  his  daughter,"  sug- 
gested the  Guardsman. 

"  Oh !  by  the  way  !  that  is  it !  "  suddenly  exclaimed 
the  Hussar. 

"  What  is  it  ?    Have  you  made  a  discovery  ?  " 

"  Yes !  you  said  he  looked  like  a  foreigner ;  and  so  the 
whole  thing  flashed  upon  me  at  once,  rfe  is  the  Prince 
Waldemar  Pullmynoseoif.  Her  Majesty  received  him 
yesterday.  He  has  a  daughter.  The  Princess  Shirra." 

«  Why,  certainly !  of  course  !  undoubtedly  !  how  could 
we  have  missed  seeing  it  at  once." 

And  so  these  young  men,  upon  their  own  sole  responsi- 


194  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

bility,  settled  the  rank  of  the  simple  republican  gentle- 
man and  lady. 

And  Alexander  Lyon,  or  Lord  Killcrichtoun,  smiled 
as  he  heard  this. 

While  they  spoke  several  of  their  acquaintances  came 
lounging  up.  One  of  them,  a  fair  young  man  with  straw- 
colored  hair  and  mustache,  spoke : 

u  We  have  just  seen  the  loveliest  little  creature.  Can 
any  of  you  tell  who  she  is  ?  " 

«  Now,  in  the  first  place,"  said  Leslie,  maliciously, 
**  where  there  are  so  many  lovely  creatures  present,  how 
are  we  to  know  which  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  cannot  mistake  if  you  have  seen  her !  the  most 
perfect  beauty  of  the  season.  She  wore — there  now  I 
cannot  tell  you  what  she  wore :  but  her  dress  was  the 
most  elegant  as  she  was  the  most  beautiful  in  the  room," 
persisted  the  young  man,  pulling  at  his  fair  mustache. 

"  Now  look  here,  Duke — taste  in  beauty  and  taste  in 
dress  differ  so  much,  you  know.  How  can  I  tell  what  in- 
dividual girl  you  mean  when  you  talk  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful creature  in  the  most  elegant  toilet  in  the  room? 
Why,  there  are  hundreds  of  beautiful  women  hi  elegant 
toilets  present,  and  each  one  of  them  may  be  the  most 
beautiful  and  the  most  elegant  to  some  one  else's  particular 
fancy. 

"  Ah !  bah,  Leslie,  that  may  be  all  very  true  of  common- 
place beauties ;  but  I  tell  you,  and  you  know  it  is  true,  that 
there  are  some  beauties  whom  every  body  acknowledges  to 
be  pre-eminent ;  and  of  such  is  the  sweet  creature  who 
passed  here  like  a  beam  of  sunshine — an  exquisite  crea- 
ture !  Stop  chaffing  now  and  tell  me,  if  you  know,  who 
she  is." 

"Was  she  leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  tall,  gray-haired 
gentleman  ?  "  asked  Leslie,  laughing. 

«  Yes  !  yes !  " 

"  Oh,  then,  yes,  I  know  her.  She  is  the  Princess  Shirra, 
daughter  of  Prince  Waldemar  Pullmynoseoff.  He  is 
here  on  a  visit ;  some  say  on  a  private  mission.  Her 
Majesty  received  him  yesterday." 

"  Daughter  of  old  Pullmynoseoff.  I'll  go  and  get  in- 
troduced," said  the  young  duke,  hurrying  away. 

Again  Alexander  laughed  within  himself.    He  was 


THE  AMBASSADRESS'  BALL.  195, 

somewhat  amused  by  the  mistake  those  discerning  gentle- 
men had  made  in  supposing  Brasilia  to  be  the  little 
Russian  princess  ;  but  he  was  also  bitterly  jealous  of  the 
admiration  so  generally  expressed  for  his  beautiful,  young, 
forsaken  wife ;  and  he  was  deeply  indignant  that  men 
should  take  her  for  a  girl  to  be  wooed  and  won. 

He  followed  the  duke.  He  could  not  help  it.  He 
wanted  to  see  the  end  of  this  adventure,  in  which  the 
young  duke  went  in  search  of  Brasilia  and  the  Princess 
Shirra,  both  hi  one.  He  followed  him  through  the  mazes 
of  the  whole  suite  of  rooms ;  and  everywhere  he  heard  the 
same  suppressed  murmur  of  admiration,  curiosity  and  con- 
jecture of  which  the  new  beauty  was  the  subject.  Others 
beside  the  group  of  officers  took  her  for  the  newly-arrived 
Russian  Princess. 

"  Look  at  her  diamonds — a  shower  of  dewdrops  over 
her  flowers,"  murmured  one  lady. 

"  They  cannot  all  be  real.  Some  must  be  paste  among 
BO  many,"  objected  another. 

"  Paste  !  Look  at  her  point-lace  dress,  then,  more  costly 
still  than  her  diamonds.  None  but  a  princess  of  the 
highest  rank  could  wear  such  a  priceless  robe." 

Alexander  passed  on,  leaving  these  people  to  their 
dispute,  and  followed  the  young  duke  until  he  stopped 
before  a  group  of  ladies  and  gentlemen.  The  ladies  were 
seated  on  the  sofa,  and  the  gentlemen  were  standing 
before  them. 

The  duke  bowed  and  exchanged  the  courtesies  of  the 
evening,  and  then,  turning  to  one  of  the  gentlemen,  said  : 

"  Lord  John,  you  presented  the  Prince  Waldemar  Pull- 
mynoseoff  to  Her  JNiajesty  yesterday.  Will  you  be  good 
enough  to  present  me  to  the  prince  this  evening  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure,  Lillespont.  Come ! "  said  the  Lord 
John,  at  once  turning  to  lead  the  way. 

"  I  think  his  daughter  decidedly  the  most  beautiful  wo- 
man in  the  house,"  said  the  Buke  of  Lillespont  as  they 
threaded  their  way  through  the  crowd,  closely  followed  by 
Alexander.  "  Unquestionably  the  most  beautiful  woman 
here,"  repeated  His  Grace,  as  if  challenging  contradiction. 

"  Bo  you  ?  I  am  rather  surprised  to  hear  you  say  so," 
observed  Lord  John. 

"  The  most  beautiful  woman  I  have  ever  seen — that  is, 


196  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

if  one  may  call  so  young  a  creature  a  woman  at  all,"  he 
added. 

"  Young  ?  "  repeated  Lord  John,  raising  his  eyebrows. 
"  Ah,  but  then  you  are  at  a  time  of  life  when  all  women's 
ages  are  alike,  I  suppose." 

And,  saying  this  in  rather  a  low  tone,  Lord  John  paused 
before  a  gentleman  and  lady  seated  on  a  sofa,  around  which 
quite  a  court  of  worshippers  were  gathered. 

Waiting  for  a  few  minutes  for  a  fair  opportunity,  and 
then  gently  making  his  way  through  the  circle,  Lord  John 
took  his  protege,  and  said : 

"  Prince,  permit  me  to  present  to  your  Highness  the 
Duke  of  Lillespont;  Duke, — Prince  Waldemar  Pullmy- 
noseoff ! " 

And,  before  the  young  duke  could  recover  from  his 
surprise  and  disappointment,  he  found  himself  bowing 
deeply  before  a  little  dry,  rusty,  scrubby,  hairy  old  gentle- 
man, who  looked  more  like  a  very  aged  and  very  cunning 
monkey  than  a  man,  not  to  say  a  prince.  However,  he 
was  certainly  a  European  celebrity,  filled  full  of  diplo- 
macy, covered  over  with  orders,  and  possessed  a  string  of 
titles — all  told — a  yard  and  a  quarter  long.  So  the  duke 
bolted  his  disappointment  and  bowed  his  body  low  before 
the  royal  and  venerable  mummy. 

And  then  he  was  presented  to'  a  little,  withered  woman, 
very  like  the  prince,  and  looking  very  little  younger,  but 
so  covered  with  jewels  of  all  sizes  and  colors  that  she 
presented  the  idea  of  an  elderly  fire-fly. 

Again  the  duke  bowed  low,  and  exerted  himself  to  be 
agreeable,  but  he  was  very  glad  when  the  coming  up  of 
another  party  gave  him  an  excuse  to  make  his  final  bow 
and  withdraw. 

Alexander,  grinning  like  Mephistophiles,  still  followed. 

"  I  was  quite  mistaken  in  the  princess.  It  was  another 
whom  I  took  to  be  Prince  Waldemar's  daughter,"  said 
Lillespont,  deeply  annoyed  that  he  should  have  led  any 
one  to  believe  so  ill  of  his  tastes  as  that  he  should  have 
fallen  in  love  with  the  elderly  fire-fly. 

tt  Hem !  I  thought  you  had  made  some  mistake  of  the 
sort,"  said  Lord  John  kindly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  quite  another  sort  of  person !  a  lovely  young 
creature,  just  out  of  the  schoolroom,  I  should  say.  Ah, 


THE  AMBASSADRESS'  BALL.  197 

there — there  she  is  now,  sitting  within  that  window !  " 
suddenly  exclaimed  the  young  man  as  an  opening  in  the 
crowd,  like  a  rift  in  the  clouds,  showed  a  vista  at  the  far- 
ther end  of  which  a  bay  window  lined  with  lilies  and 
roses  and  occupied  by  General  Lyon  and  his  party,  and 
by  a  select  circle  of  their  particular  friends. 

"  There  !  that  lovely,  dark-eyed  houri,  looking  the  very 
spirit  of  spring  and  youth,  clothed  with  sunshine,  adorned 
with  flowers,  and  spangled  with  diamond-dew  !  Do  you 
know  her  ?  " 

"  Know  her  ?  Stop, — let  me  see.  I  know  that  party 
she  is  with.  I  met  them  here  at  this  house  a  few  morn- 
ings ago.  Let  me  see, — there  is  General  Lyon,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hammond,  and — yes,  the  young  creature  you 
admire  so  justly  is  Mrs.  Lyon." 

" '  Mrs. — did  you  mean  to  say  « Mrs.  ? ' " 

"  Yes,  '  Mrs.'  I  remember  perfectly  well  being  as  much 
surprised  as  you  are  at  seeing  so  child-like  a  creature  in- 
troduced by  a  matronly  title." 

"  But  she  is  never  the  wife  of  that  old  man  ?  It  would 
not — that  sort  of  union — be  May  and  December,  it  would 
be  April  and  January  !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  she  is  not  his  wife — she  is  his  niece,  I  think. 
Yes,  I  am  sure  he  introduced  her  as  his  niece,  Mrs.  Lyon." 

"  Mrs.  Lyon  ?  that  child." 

"  Well,  I  tell  you,  I  was  as  much  surprised  as  you  are 
to  hear  her  called  so  ;  but  then  I  reflected  that  in  America, 
as  in  all  young  nations,  people  marry  at  a  very  early  age." 

"  Ah !  but  where  is  Mr.  Lyon  ? "  very  pertinently 
inquired  Lillespont. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Lyon  ?  I  don't  know  that  there  is  any  Mr. 
Lyon.  I  have  somehow  or  other  received  the  impression 
that  this  childish  beauty  is  a  young  widow,  and  a  very 
wealthy  one  also." 

"A  youthful,  beautiful,  and  wealthy  widow,"  said 
Lillespont,  musingly.  "  Lord  John,  you  say  you  know 
her, — will  you  introduce  me  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure, — come,"  said  the  elder  man,  leading 
the  way  to  the  bay-window. 

Alexander  followed  them  no  further,  but  muttering  to 
himself : 

"  Ass,  puppy,  coxcomb  !  "  and  other  injurious  epithets 


198  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

— probably  applied  to  Lillespont — withdrew  to  a  conveni- 
ent spot  from  which,  unseen,  he  could  see  all  that  might 
be  going  on  in  the  bay-window. 

He  saw  the  old  gentleman  called  Lord  John  take  Lille- 
spont up  and  present  him  to  General  Lyon,  who  forth- 
with presented  him  to  the  ladies  of  his  party.  And  next 
he  saw  the  young  duke  bow  deeply  to  Drusilla,  and  make 
some  request,  to  which  she  graciously  responded.  And 
then  he  saw  her  rise  and  give  her  hand  to  Lillespont, 
who,  with  the  air  of  a  conqueror,  led  her  off. 

Alexander  ground  his  teeth  together  with  rage  and 
jealousy. 

They  passed  down  the  room  and  onward  towards  the 
-dancing  saloon,  where  new  quadrilles  were  being  formed. 
And  the  duke  led  his  beautiful  partner  to  the  head  of  one 
•set.  And  there  as  everywhere  else  a  low,  half-suppressed 
but  sincere  murmur  of  admiration  followed  her. 

Alexander  foamed  with  fury,  and  hurried  away  from 
the  scene  because  he  could  not  trust  himself  to  remain. 

Of  course  he  had  not  the  least  right  to  be  jealous  or 
indignant,  but  just  because  he  had  no  such  right — and  he 
knew  it — he  was  all  the  more  furious.  It  enraged  him 
to  see  her  looking  so  beautiful,  blooming,  happy,  and  in- 
•dependent  of  him,  enjoying  herself  and  exciting  univer- 
•sal  admiration  in  society,  when  he  thought,  by  rights, 
she  ought  to  be  pale,  and  sad,  and  moping  in  some  oL- 
scure  place.  It  infuriated  him  to  see  her  the  object  of 
another  man's  homage. 

"  And  that  puppy,  perdition  seize  him  !  takes  her  to  be 
a  young  widow ;  is  thinking  now  perhaps  of  asking  her 
to  be  his  wife !  His  wife ! "  And  here  Alexander 
ground  down  unuttered  curses  between  his  set  teeth. 

Ah,  could  he  have  looked  into  his  young  wife's  heart, 
his  anger  must  have  been  appeased.  Could  he  have  seen 
how  little  she  cared  for  all  the  homage  she  received,  ex- 
cept in  so  much  as  it  might  make  her  more  worthy  in  his 
eyes.  Truly  she  smiled  on  the  young  duke  at  her  side — 
not  because  he  was  young  and  handsome  and  a  duke,  but 
because  it  was  her  sunny,  genial,  grateful  nature  to  smile 
on  all  who  tried  to  please  her.  Yes  !  to  smile  on  all  who 
tried  to  please  her,  while  from  the  depth  of  her  heart  she 
sighed  to  please  but  one  on  earth. 


THE  AMBASSADRESS'  BALL.  199, 

Alexander  found  food  enough  for  his  insane  jealousy. 
Brasilia  was  the  acknowledged  beauty  of  the  season. 
Everywhere  he  heard  her  murmured  praises.  Every  one 
supposed  her  to  be  a  young  widow.  Some  genius,  indebted 
to  his  imagination  for  his  facts,  had  fancied  that  because 
Mrs.  Lyon  the  supposed  young  widow,  was  niece- in- law  to 
old  General  Lyon,  therefore  the  husband  of  Mrs.  Lyon  had 
been  a  military  officer  who  had  been  killed  in  the  war 
between  the  United  States  and  Mexico ;  and  had  so  effect- 
ually started  the  report  that  before  the  evening  was  over 
every  one  had  heard  that  Captain  Lyon  had  been  shot 
while  gallantly  leading  his  company  at  the  storming  of 
Chepultepec.  Of  course  this  report  never  once  reached 
the  ears  of  the  General  or  Mrs.  Lyon,  or  of  Mr.  or  Mrs. 
Hammond.  Reports  seldom  do  reach  the  ears  of  those 
most  concerned  in  them ;  and  false  reports  never. 

But  Alexander  was  doomed  to  hear  it  all. 

"  Kill,  have  you  seen  the  newest  beauty  out  ?  "  inquired 
young  Hepsworth  of  the  Dragoons.  "  There  she  is  danc- 
ing with  Prince  Ernest  of  Hohenlinden.  She  is  engaged 
ten  sets  deep ;  but  I  come  in  for  the  eleventh  for  the  Lan- 
cers. That  is  after  supper.  Look  at  her  now,  as  she  turns. 
Isn't  she  perfect  ?  Just  perfect  ?  " 

"  Who  is  she  ? "  growled  Alexander,  f eeling  himself 
called  upon  to  say  something. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  Not  Satan  in  the  form  of  an  angel  of 
light,  as  one  might  judge  from  the  tone  of  your  question. 
She  is  Mrs  Lyon,  a  young  widow,  though  you  would  hardly 
suppose  her  ever  to  have  been  a  wife.  But  you  know  how 
early  girls  marry  in  America,  stepping  from  the  cradle  to 
the  altar,  one  might  say.  However,  that  young  creature 
has  been  married  and  widowed.  Husband,  gallant  fellow, 
lost  his  life  in  leading  a  forlorn  hope  in  the  storming  of 
Chehuaple — Chehuapaw — Chehua-peltemback,  or  some 
such  barbarously  named  place." 

"  Oh !  he  did,  did  he  ?  " 

u  Oh,  yes,  bless  you !  And  I  am  very  much  obliged 
to  him  for  doing  so ;  but  she  was  perfectly  inconsol- 
able for  three  years.  But  she  has  at  last  left  off  her 
weeds,  as  you  see.  And  we  may  suppose  she  is  in  the 
market." 

"  Ah !   she  is,  is  she  ?  " 


200  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Oh,  yes  t  Lovely  creature  ?  And  stu-vEK-dously  rich 
too,"  exclaimed  the  dragoon. 

"  Oh,  she  is  rich  ?  "  sneered  Alexander. 

"  Rich  ?  She's  a  California  Croesus.  A  great  catch  for 
some  fortunate  fellow !  " 

It  would  not  do  to  take  a  gentleman  by  the  throat  and 
shake  him  there  in  the  ambassadress'  drawing-room ;  yet 
Alexander  could  scarcely  refrain  from  laying  hands  on  the 
dragoon  who  continued  very  innocently  piling  up  wrath. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  think  "Lillespont  is  taken  ?  Lilles- 
pont  who  has  escaped  all  the  man-traps  set  for  him  for  the 
last  four  years,  since  he  first  appeared  in  the  world  ?  But 
then  this  young  creature  is  such  a  perfect  novelty  !  It 
would  be  of  no  use  for  a  captain  of  dragoons  to  enter  the 
lists  against  a  duke,  else  hang  me  if  I  did  not  go  in  for  the 
little  beauty  myself,"  said  the  young  officer,  complacently 
drawing  himself  up,  sticking  out  a  neat  leg,  and  caressing 
his  moustache. 

"  You  are  an  ass ! "  exclaimed  Alexander,  turning  on 
his  heel  and  walking  away. 

The  astonished  dragoon  gazed  after  him  in  a  sort  of 
stupor,  and  then,  still  pawing  at  his  moustache,  muttered : 

M  Per  Bacco !  what  a  rude  savage !  Very  great  bore, 
but  I  shall  have  to  challenge  him.  And  hang  me  if  I 
have  the  least  idea  what  the  row  is  about.  However,  I 
must  stay  here  until  I  keep  my  engagement  with  the  lit- 
tle beauty  for  the  Lancers,  and  then — to  teach  that  uncivi- 
lized brute  that  he  is  not  to  indulge  his  savage  propensities 
in  ladies'  drawing-rooms." 

And  so  saying,  the  young  fellow,  who  with  all  his  effem- 
inacy, was  brave  enough,  sauntered  away  to  look  up 
a  brother  officer  to  act  as  his  second,  and  afterwards  to 
wait  for  his  partner  in  the  Lancers,  his  mind  being  equal- 
ly occupied  by  the  thoughts  of  dancing  and  dueling. 

Meanwhile,  Alexander  had  moved  to  another  stand- 
point, from  which,  unseen  by  her,  he  could  follow  every 
movement  of  his  beautiful  arid  admired  young  wife. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  I  shall  have  to 
meet  that  young  coxcomb.  For  after  what  I  said  to  him 
unless  he  is  a  poltroon  as  well  as  a  puppy,  he  will  chal- 
lenge me.  Well !  I  don't  care  a  rush  for  my  own  life,  and 
it  is  not  likely  that  I  should  care  for  his Yes !  and  by 


THE  AMBASSADRESS'  BALL.  201 

all  that  is  maddening,  there  is  another  fellow  I  shall  have 
to  fight ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  watched  Prince  Ernest  of 
Hohenlinden,  who  was  bestowing  on  the  beauty  of  the 
evening  much  more  devotion  than  it  was  at  all  necessary 
to  show  to  a  mere  partner  in  the  dance. 

Just  then  the  dance  came  to  an  end,  and  his  Highness 
led  Drusilla  back  to  her  seat  beside  Mrs.  Hammond  in  the 
bay  window. 

Alexander  followed,  keeping  out  of  her  sight. 

"  I  fear  you  are  very  much  fatigued,"  said  Prince  Ernest, 
still  retaining  her  hand,  and  gazing  with  respectful  tender- 
ness upon  her  flushed  cheeks  and  brilliant  eyes.  "  Let 
me  bring  you  an  ice,"  he  continued,  with  affectionate  soli- 
citude. 

"  Xo,  thanks,"  said  Drusilla,  courtously,  but  withdraw- 
ing her  hand. 

"  A  glass  of  water  then  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  thanks." 

"  The  rooms  are  very  warm.  Will  you  permit  me  to 
take  you  into  the  conservatory.  It  is  open  and  airy  there.'* 

"  Much  obliged ;  but  I  am  very  well  here,"  said  Dru- 
silla, sweetly. 

"  Permit  me  this  privilege  at  least,"  pleaded  the  prince, 
gently  possessing  himself  of  her  fan  and  beginning  to  fan 
her. 

Alexander  set  his  teeth  and  ground  his  heel  into  the 
floor,  growling  within  himself  : 

«  Confound  him,  what  does  he  mean  ?  I  know  I  shall 
have  to  fight  him !  " 

But  if  Alexander  meant  to  call  out  all  Drusilla's  ad- 
mirers, who,  believing  her  to  be  a  widow,  were  ready  to 
become  her  lovers,  he  would  have  his  hands  as  fall  of 
fights  as  the  most  furious  fire-eater  might  desire. 

While  Prince  Ernest  was  still  standing  before  Drusilla 
fanning  her,  and  in  every  admissible  manner  exhibiting 
his  devotion  to  her,  a  very  handsome,  martial  looking 
man,  of  about  thirty  years  of  age,  wearing  the  uniform  of 
an  Austrian  field- marshal,  and  having  his  breast  covered 
with  orders,  came  up  and,  bowing  low  before  the  beauty, 
claimed  her  hand  for  the  quadrille  then  forming. 

Alexander  knew  him  for  General  Count  Molaski,  an 
officer  high  in  the  Austrian  service,  and  one  of  the  most 


202  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

distinguished  foreigners  then  in  London.  He  led  his 
lovely  partner  to  the  floor,  where  she  was  soon  moving 
gracefully  through  the  mazes  of  the  dance. 

«  Her  head  will  be  turned  ! — her  head  will  be  completely 
turned  !  Who  would  ever  have  dreamed  of  her  coming 
here  to  play  the  r6le  of  a  beauty — of  a  queen  of  beauties — 
in  society !  Aye,  and  with  a  fortune  of  her  own,  and  the 
countenance  of  General  Lyon's  family  to  sustain  her  in  it 
Perdition  !  I  wish  to  Heaven  she  had  never  left  Cedar- 
wood — never  inherited  that  fortune — never  been  taken  up 
by  that  old  Don  Quixote,  my  uncle !  Then  I  might  have 
had  some  chance  of  a  reconciliation  with  her ;  but  now — 
I  have  no  hope  at  all.  If  she  has  not  already  forgotten 
me,  these  flatterers  will  soon  make  her  do  so.  Ah !  great 
Heaven,  I  was  certainly  blind  and  mad  ever  to  have  left 
her !  I  always  loved  her — when  did  I  love  her  not  ?  And 
to  have  left  her  whom  I  did  love  for  Anna  whom  I  only 
admired !  Why,  look  at  Anna  now.  Only  what  is  com- 
monly called  a  fine  woman  here.  There  are  a  hundred 
in  this  room  as  pretty  as  Anna,  but  look  at  Drusilla,  my 
wife — she  is  my  wife,  after  all !  She  is  the  most  beauti- 
ful woman  present,  and  the  best  dressed.  My  choice  has 
been  endorsed  by  the  verdict  of  the  best  judges  of  beauty 
the  world  possesses.  She  was  my  choice.  I  thought  her 
all  that  these  judges  have  decided  her  to  be.  Yes,  yes,  I 
thought  her  so  when  she  was  without  the  adventitious 
aids  of  wealth,  rank,  dress,  and  general  admiration  to  en- 
hance her  charms !  How  could  I  have  left  her  ?  I  was 
mad — just  mad  !  No  lunatic  in  Bedlam  ever  madder ! " 

By  this  it  will  be  seen  that  Alexander  Lyon,  Lord  Kill- 
crichtoun,  had  in  his  heart — for  no  one  knows  how  long 
— returned  to  his  first  love — perhaps  his  only  love — and 
-was  now  consuming  with  a  hopeless  passion  for  his  own 
discarded  wife. 

"  When  I  first  saw  our  boy,  what  a  shock  of  mingled 
joy  and  pain  the  sight  gave  me  !  I  scarcely  needed  the 
chambermaid's  information  that  he  was  Mrs.  Lyon's  little 
son,  I  knew  him  at  once  from  his  likeness  to  his  mother. 
True,  he  has  the  hair  and  eyes  of  our  family,  but  he  has 
his  mother's  beautiful  brows  and  sweet  lips.  Ah  !  what 
a  dolt !  what  an  ass !  what  a  pig  I  have  been  ! "  inwardly 
groaned  Alexander,  still  grinding  his  teeth  together. 


THE  AMBASSADRESS'  BALL.  203 

But  soon  his  rage  was  diverted  from  himself  to  Dru- 
silla's  partner. 

"There  she  goes,"  he  muttered — swimming  through 
the  dance  as  happily  as  if  I  were  not  in  existence,  and 
were  not  so  wretched.  And,  set  fire  to  that  fellow  !  how 

his  eyes  follow  her  and  seem  to  feast Ugh  !  yes,  I 

will  be  shot  if  I  don't  call  him  out !  " 

"  Hallo,  Kill. !  how  do  you  do  ?  Good  evening.  Fine 
company  assembled  here  this  evening.  Good  many  dis- 
tinguished foreigners  present — nearly  the  whole  diplo- 
matic corps  also.  But  all  that  is  nothing  to  the  debut  of 
the  celebrated  beauty.  You  know  her,  of  course,"  said 
young  Frederic  Dorimas,  coming  up  to  Alexander's  side. 
"  You  know  her  ?  " 

"  Know  whom  ?  "  said  Drusilla's  husband,  evasively. 

"  Why,  the  beautiful  young  widow  who  is  turning  all 
heads  this  evening." 

"  No,  I  know  no  young  widow  here." 

"  Then  you  are  a  very  lucky  fellow  in  having  such  a 
pleasure  still  to  come ;  and  I  shall  be  happy  to  present 
you.  Now,  no  thanks,  my  dear  fellow,  because  I  don't 
deserve  them.  My  own  heart  and  hand  being  already 
engaged  to  another  young  lady,  I  am  not  free  to  become 
a  candidate  for  the  beautiful  widow's  favor,  and  so  I  will 
not  play  the  part  of  the  dog  in  the  manger.  Come  as 
soon  as  this  dance  is  over,  and  I  will  take  you  up  and  in- 
troduce you." 

"  Much  obliged ;  but  I  prefer  to  decline  the  honor," 
said  Alexander,  coldly  bowing  and  turning  away  from  his 
new  tormentor. 

"  Eh,  Kill.,  not  dancing  this  evening  ?  and  looking  as 
glum  as  if  you  had  lost  a  sweetheart  or  a  fortune. 
What's  the  matter  ?  Did  you  bet  on  a  losing  horse,  or 
fail  to  get  an  introduction  to  the  lovely  Mrs.  Lyon  ?  " 

"  Go  to  the  demon  with  your  lovely  Mrs.  Lyon !  "  burst 
owt  the  sorely  tried  Alick. 

"  With  great  pleasure,  or  anywhere  else  in  the  universe 
with  her.  But,  hark  you,  my  lord !  I  am  not  accustomed 
to  receive  such  answers  from  gentlemen ;  and  by  my 
life,  sir " 

But  Alexander  had  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  off 


204  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

again,  leaving  the  last  speaker  in  the  middle  of  his 
speech. 

Alick,  in  his  utter  wretchedness,  was  behaving  very 
much  like  a  brute.  He  had  already  insulted  one  gentle- 
man and  affronted  another.  He  was  sure  of  being  called 
out  by  young  Hepsworth  of  the  dragoons,  and  he  was 
strongly  inclined  to  call  out  some  half  dozen  other  gentle- 
men who  had  been  guilty  of  dancing  with  Drusilla  and 
delighting  in  the  honor. 

He  passed  on,  growling  inward  curses,  and  so  for  some 
moments  lost  sight  of  his  young  wife. 

When  he  saw  her  next,  she  was  seated  in  the  bay  win- 
dow, with  her  court  of  worshipers  around  her.  She 
alone  occupied  the  sofa. 

General  Lyon  was  standing  at  some  distance  with  a 
group  of  old  friends  that  he  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to 
collect  together. 

Anna  was  waltzing  with  Henry  Spencer. 

Dick  was  waltzing  with  Nanny  Seymour. 

Drusilla  never  waltzed,  and  therefore  for  the  time  she 
was  sitting  alone  on  the  sofa  with  her  court  standing 
around  her. 

There  were  Prince  Ernest  of  Hohenlinden,  General 
Count  Molaski,  the  Duke  of  Lillespont,  and  one  or  two 
others  of  the  same  class. 

Drusilla  exhibited  none  of  the  awkwardness  of  a  novice 
under  such  trying  circumstances.  The  only  lady  in  the 
circle,  she  was  nevertheless  not  only  self-possessed  and 
graceful,  but  she  was  animated  and  witty.  She  kept  the 
ball  of  conversation  quickly  flying  back  and  forth,  so  that 
those  about  her  forgot  the  passage  of  time  until  the 
cessation  of  the  waltz  music  and  the  commencement  of  a 
march,  followed  by  a  general  movement  of  the  company 
in  one  direction  proclaimed  the  opening  of  the  supper 
rooms. 

With  a  bow,  Prince  Ernest  -asked  the  honor  of  taking 
Mrs  Lyon  into  supper. 

With  a  smile  of  thanks,  she  accepted  the  courtesy,  and 
arose. 

And  he  drew  her  arm  within  his  own,  and  proudly  led 
her  off. 

They  passed  so  near  Alexander  that  he  might  have 


THE  AMBASSADRESS'  BALL.  205 

stepped  upon  her  dress.    But  she  never  turned  her  eyes 
in  his  direction 

"  She  has  forgotten  me — clearly  and  finally  forgotten 
me !  But  I  will  be  hanged  if  I  don't  make  somebody 
sensible  of  my  existence  before  the  night  is  over  ! "  said 
Alexander  to  himself  as  he  followed  them. 

At  supper  the  prince  waited  on  the  beauty  with  as 
much  devotion  as  ever  courtier  offered  to  his  queen. 

Near  them  stood  Anna,  served  by  Henry  Spencer  and 
Nanny  Seymour  waited  on  by  Dick. 

There  was  really  nothing  at  which  Alexander  had  the 
least  right  to  take  exception.  Yet  his  blood  was  boiling 
with  jealousy  so  that  he  was  actually  almost  frenzied. 

After  supper  Prince  Ernest  led  Drusilla  back  to  her 
seat,  and  stood  devoting  himself  to  her  service  until  the 
next  dance  was  called  and  Captain  Hepsworth  came  up 
to  claim  her  as  his  partner  in  the  Lancers. 

Very  sweetly  Drusilla  smiled  on  the  young  dragoon,  as 
she  gave  him  her  hand  and  let  him  lead  her  forth  to  the 
dance. 

But  not  Drusilla's  smile  of  courtesy  nor  the  young 
officer's  simper  of  gratified  vanity  enraged  Alick  half  so 
much  as  the  air  and  manner  assumed  by  Prince  Ernest. 

He,  the  prince,  gazed  after  the  retreating  form  of  the 
beauty  until  she  was  lost  in  the  crowd,  and  then  with  a 
profound  sigh  he  took  possession  of  her  vacated  seat, 
picked  up  a  flower  that  might  or  might  not  have  fallen 
from  her  bouquet,  pressed  it  to  his  lips  and  put  it  in  his 
bosom. 

"  I'll  kill  him  for  that,  or  he  shall  kill  me !  I  hardly 
care  which ! "  growled  the  maniac  in  the  depth  of  his 
heart.  He  would  have  liked  to  throttle  his  Highness  on 
the  spot ;  and  hi  refraining  from  doing  so  he  only  post- 
poned his  vengeance. 

When  the  Lancers  came  to  an  end  Drusilla  re- 
turned, obsequiously  attended  by  the  young  dragoon,  and 
followed  by  General  Lyon  and  all  the  members  of  her 
party. 

Prince  Ernest  started  up  from  the  sofa  and  with  respect- 
ful tenderness  took  Drusilla's  hand  and  placed  her  in  her 
seat,  and  remained  standing  beside  her. 

"  My  dear,  it  is  four  o'clock,  and  you  look  very  tired — 


206  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

had  we  not  better  go  ?  "  inquired  General  Lyon,  speaking 
in  a  low  tone  to  Brasilia. 

"Just  as  you  and  Anna  please,  dear  uncle.  As  for  my- 
self, I  am  quite  ready,"  she  replied. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Mrs  Hammond. 

"  Come  then,"  said  the  General,  offering  his  arm  to  Dru- 
silla. 

«  Pardon  me,  sir,  if  you  please.  I  will  have  the  honor 
to  attend  Madam !  "  exclaimed  Prince  Ernest. 

With  a  bow  and  a  queer  smile  the  General  gave  way. 

And  the  prince  bending  before  the  beauty,  took  her 
hand  and  drew  her  arm  within  his  own  and  led  her  on. 

And  Alexander  from  his  covert  saw  all  this  ;  and  breath- 
ing maledictions,  followed  them,  first  to  the  presence  of 
the  ambassador  and  ambassadress,  before  whom  they 
paused  to  make  their  adieux,  then  to  the  cloak  room, 
where  he  saw  Prince  Ernest  take  Brasilia's  bouquet  and 
hold  it  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  hand  he  care- 
fully wrapped  her  in  her  mantle  ;  then  he  followed  them 
down-stairs  to  the  hall,  where  they  all  had  to  stop  and 
wait  some  time  before  their  carriage  could  come  up— and 
finally  to  the  sidewalk,  where  he  saw  Prince  Ernest  care- 
fully place  Brasilia  in  her  carriage,  and  tenderly  lift  her 
hand  to  his  lips  as  he  bade  her  good-night.  Saw  him 
then  gaze  upon  the  faded  bouquet  that  he  had  taken  from 
the  beauty,  who  had  probably  forgotten  to  reclaim  it — 
gaze  upon  it,  press  it  to  his  lips,  and  place  it,  as  some 
priceless  treasure,  in  the  breast  of  his  coat. 

That  last  act  of  folly  filled  up  the  measure  of  the  prince's 
offences.  It  maddened  Alexander.  Henceforth  he  was 
no  more  responsible  for  his  actions  than  a,  lunatic. 

Going  up  to  Prince  Ernest,  he  clapped  him  smartly 
upon  the  shoulder. 

The  prince  whirled  around  with  an  involuntary  expres- 
sion of  surprise  and  anger. 

"  You,  sir,  I  want  a  word  with  you  ! "  exclaimed  Alex- 
ander, breathing  hard  between  his  set  teeth. 

"  At  your  pleasure,  sare,  perhaps  !  But,  first,  who  may 
you  be  ?  "  replied  his  highness,  with  cool  hauteur. 

"  There  is  my  card,  sir !  I  would  be  glad  to  have 
yours  ?  " 


ALEXANDER'S  EXPERIENCE.  207 

« « Baron  Killcrichtoun  ? '  I  do  not  know  the  name  or 
title.  Well,  Baron,  what  is  your  will  with  me  ?  " 

"  First,  sir,  that  bouquet,  which  you  have  had  the  inso- 
lence to  keep !  Secondly,  sir,  satisfaction  for  the  insults 
you  have  offered  to  a  lady  who  is  near  and  dear  to  me  ?  " 

«  INSULTS  !  "  exclaimed  the  excitable  Austrian,  jumping 
off  his  feet.  "  Insults !  sare,  I  never  offer  insults  to  a 
lady  in  my  life !  Sare,  you  speak  von  untruth !  Sare, 
you  speak  von  large  lie  !  Sare,  it  is  I,  myself,  I,  who  will 
have  von  grand  satisfaction !  " 

«  So  you  shall !  but  first  give  me  that  bouquet ! " 

"  Sare,  I  will  give  you  no  bouquet !  Sare,  I  defend  my 
bouquet  with  the  best  blood  of  my  heart !  Sare,  by  what 
right  you  demand  my  bouquet  ?  " 

u  By  a  right  too  sacred  to  be  talked  of  here  !  Give  me 
the  bouquet  that  you  have  stolen ! " 

" '  Stolen  ! '  "  cried  his  highness,  vaulting  into  the  air, 
"  Sare,  I  will  put  back  that  word  down  your  t'roat  with 
the  point  of  my  rapier,  sare  !  I  will  have  von  grand,  von 
very  grand  satisfaction,  sare !  " 

"  All  right !  I  will  send  a  friend  to  you  this  morning, 
to  arrange  the  terms  of  a  meeting,"  said  Alexander,  turn- 
ing away. 

"  Make  your  testament,  sare !  I  advise  you,  set  your 
house  in  order,  sare  ! "  exclaimed  the  Austrian,  shaking 
his  hand  aloft.  "  Make  your  testament,  sare !  for,  for  me, 
myself,  I  will  have  von  grand  satisfaction !  von  very 
grand  satisfaction ! " 


CHAPTER    XXI. 
ALEXANDER'S  EXPERIENCE. 

Words  of  fire  and  words  of  scorn 

I  have  written — let  them  go  ! 
Words  of  hate — heart-broken,  torn 

With  this  strong  and  sudden  woe. 
All  my  scorn,  she  could  not  doubt, 

Was  but  love,  turned  inside  out — OWEN  MEREDITH. 

«  ALICK,  are  you  mad  ?    Think  what  you  do !  " 
Alick  turned  quickly  and  faced  Dick  Hammond,  whose 
hand  had  touched  his  shoulder. 


208  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Mr.  Hammond,  you  here  ?    By  what  right,  sir,  do  you 

"  By  the  right  of  kinship.  Come,  come,  Alick,  your 
father  and  my  mother  were  brother  and  sister.  We  are 
first-cousins  and  old  playmates,  Alick.  We  have  been 
rivals,  but  are  so  no  longer.  We  need  not  be  enemies. 
Let  us  be  friends,  Alick,"  said  Dick,  frankly  holding 
out  his  hand. 

"  And  do  you  begin  your  overtures  of  friendship  by 
dogging  my  footsteps  and  spying  my  actions  ?  "  demanded 
Alexander,  putting  his  hands  behind  him. 

"  Nonsense — no !  " 

"  Why  are  you  here  then,  sir  ?  your  party  have  gone 
home." 

"Our  carriage  was  full.  I  lingered  behind  to  call  a 
hansom  for  myself,  and  so  became  an  accidental  witness 
to  your  challenge  of  Prince  Ernest,"  said  Dick,  good- 
humoredly. 

The  name  of  his  imaginary  rival  sent  Alexander  off 
into  another  fit  of  frenzy. 

"  Yes,  I  have  challenged  the  diabolical  villain,  and,  by 
my  life,  I  will  meet  him ! "  he  exclaimed,  grinding  out 
the  words  between  his  set  teeth  and  livid  lips. 

Mr.  Hammond  knew  that  to  argue  with  him  then  and 
there  upon  the  subject  of  the  intended  duel  would  be  as 
useless  as  to  reason  with  a  lunatic.  Yet,  in  a  few  hours, 
he  hoped  he  might  be  able  to  bring  him  to  his  senses. 

So,  laying  his  hand  kindly  upon  the  demoniac's  arm, 
Ue  said : 

M  Alick,  go  home  with  me,  or  permit  me  to  go  home 
with  you,  while  we  talk  this  matter  over." 

tt  No !  "  exclaimed  the  madman  violently,  throwing  off 
the  friendly  grasp.  "  Leave  me  to  myself — I  advise  you 
to  do  so !  " 

"  Alick,  I  dare  not  leave  you,  in  your  present  state  of 
mind.  Even  if  we  were  not  cousins,  we  are  still  country- 
men !  Consider  me  your  sincere  friend,  and  take  me  with 
you  in  this  crisis  of  your  affairs,"  pleaded  Dick  again, 
gently  essaying  to  restrain  the  infuriated  man. 

"  No  !  leave  me  alone,  I  say,  Hammond !  for  your  own 
good,  take  care  of  yourself  and  don't  interfere  with  a  des- 
perate man ! "  cried  Alexander,  breaking  loose. 


ALEXANDER'S  EXPERIENCE.  209 

A  hansom-cab  was  passing  at  the  moment. 

"  Cab  !  "  cried  Alexander,  seeing  that  it  was  empty. 

The  hansom  pulled  up,  and  Alexander  threw  himself 
into  it,  and  was  gone  before  Dick  could  prevent  him. 

"  I  must  get  another,  and  follow  him  if  possible,"  said 
Mr.  Hammond,  making  the  best  of  his  way  to  the  nearest 
cab-stand. 

Meanwhile,  General  Lyon,  Anna,  and  Brasilia  returned 
to  their  lodgings. 

General  Lyon,  after  a  few  moments  of  gay  bantering  of 
Brasilia  upon  her  social  triumphs  of  the  evening,  went  to 
rest. 

Brasilia,  as  soon  as  she  was  free,  hurried  to  her  own 
room,  to  look  after  her  little  son. 

Lenny  was  sleeping  very  quietly  in  his  crib,  beside  his 
mother's  bed ;  although,  indeed,  as  the  first  beams  of  the 
morning  sun  were  now  glinting  through  the  crevices  of  the 
window-blinds,  it  was  almost  time  for  Master  Lenny  to 
wake  up  for  his  morning  bath  and  airing. 

And  now  what  did  the  queen  of  the  ball  do  ? 

Tearing  off  her  jeweled  wreath  of  spring-flowers,  and 
throwing  aside  her  gems,  she  cast  herself  down  upon  her 
child's  bed  and  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears,  and  wept 
and  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

It  was  not  her  sobs  or  tears  that  awakened  little  Lenny. 
They  were  too  silent  even  in  their  vehemence  to  disturb 
the  child's  serene  rest  It  was  probably  his  hour  to  wake. 
He  opened  his  eyes,  and,  seeing  his  mother  in  so  much 
grief  and  believing  from  his  brief  experience  that  nothing 
but  his  own  naughtiness  ever  grieved  "  Boosa,"  he  put  his 
arms  around  her  neck,  and  said  ; 

"Bon't  ky,  Boosa — don't  ky !  'deed  Lenny  be  dood 
boy!" 

"  Oh,  Lenny,  Lenny !  love  me,  or  my  heart  will  break ! " 
she  cried,  gathering  the  child  to  her  bosom  and  pressing 
him  there. 

"  Lenny  do  love — don't  ky  !  'deed  Lenny  be  dood  boy 
— 'deed  Lenny  will !  "  said  the  child,  kissing  and  hugging 
her  fondly. 

"  My  darling  child,  you  are  the  only  comfort  I  have  in 
this  world,"  she  sobbed,  as  she  squeezed  him   to  her 
bosom  and  covered  him  with  kisses. 
14 


210  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Hey-day !  There,  I  knew  it !  and  that  is  the  reason 
I  came  in,"  said  a  voice  in  the  open  doorway. 

Drusilla  looked  up  and  saw  Anna  standing  there. 

"  I  was  on  my  way  to  my  own  room,  but  found  your 
door  ajar,  so  I  took  the  liberty  to  look  in,"  said  Mrs. 
Hammond. 

"  Come  in,  dear  Anna.  But  I  should  think  you  would 
be  tired  enough  to  hurry  off  to  bed." 

"  No,  not  yet ;  I  haven't  got  over  the  excitement  of  wit- 
nessing your  success,  Drusa.  And  I  have  so  much  to 
say  about  it  before  I  can  sleep.  And  besides  Dick  hasn't 
got  in  yet." 

"  Are  you  uneasy  about  him,  Anna  ?  "  sympathetically 
inquired  Drusilla. 

«  Not  at  all.  I  suppose  he  hasn't  been  able  to  pick  up 
a  cab  and  has  perhaps  started  to  walk  home.  Uneasy  ? 
No  indeed  !  what  is  to  hurt  him  in  broad  daylight  ?  But, 
Drusilla,  you  have  been  crying !  You  have  been  crying 
hard  !  Now  was  it  ever  heard  that  the  belle  of  the  even- 
ing came  home  from  her  triumphs  and  cried  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Hammond,  sitting  down  beside  her  friend. 

"  Oh,  Anna  !  Anna !  Oh,  Anna  I  Anna !  if  you  knew 
how  little  my  heart  was  in  it  all !  What  could  I  care  for 
all  those  strange  people — I  who  only  longed  to  be  recon- 
ciled with  my  Alick  !  "  she  answered,  bursting  into  a  tor- 
rent of  tears. 

"  He  was  there,"  said  Anna,  quietly. 

"  Do  I  not  know  it  ?  He  was  there  all  the  evening. 
He  was  near  me  many  times.  I  felt  that  he  was,  though 
I  did  not  see  him ;  for  oh,  Anna,  I  was  afraid  to  look  to- 
wards him  and  meet  again  that  cold  and  cutting  gaze 
that  almost  slew  me  in  the  Tower ! " 

"  Don't  ky,  Doosa  !  Please  don't  ky.  'Deed  Lenny  be 
dood  boy.  Let  Lenny  wipe  eye,"  said  the  child,  taking 
up  the  edge  of  his  night-gown  and  trying  to  dry  his 
mother's  tears. 

«  My  darling,  you  are  good,  and  I  won't  cry  to  distress 
you,  poor  little  soul.  I  should  have  died  long  ago  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  you,  my  little  angel.  There,  Doosa  has 
done  crying  now,"  she  said,  wiping  her  eyes  and  smiling 
on  the  child. 

"  Drusa,  my  dear,  you  were  very  brilliant  last  evening, 


ALEXANDER'S  EXPERIENCE.  211 

not  only  beautiful,  but  brilliant.  I  really  thought  you  en- 
joyed queening  it  in  society.  You  laughed  and  talked 
and  danced  the  whole  evening.  I  should  never  have  sus- 
pected you  of  playing  a  part." 

"  Oh  Anna  !  I  was  not  exactly  playing  a  part  either. 
Oh,  Anna,  you  have  heard  how  the  timid  Chinese 
sound  a  gong  and  make  a  terrible  noise  to  drown  their 
own  fears  and  to  dismay  their  foes  when  they  go  into 
battle  ?  Anna,  it  was  much  the  same  with  me.  I  had 
to  laugh  and  talk  and  dance  and  jest  to  deafen  me  to  the 
cry  in  my  heart,  which  was  almost  breaking  all  the  while. 
Oh,  Anna,  he  has  ceased  to  love  me  now !  I  know  it,  he 
has  entirely  ceased  to  love  me !  " 

"  I  don't  feel  so  sure  of  that  myself,  Brasilia.  If  you, 
were  afraid  to  look  at  him,  I  was  not.  I  saw  him  several 
times  in  the  course  of  the  evening ;  and  whenever  I  saw 
him  he  was  standing  near  you  and  following  you  with  his 
eyes." 

"  He  was  ?  He  was,  Anna  ?  "  eagerly,  breathlessly  in- 
quired the  young  wife. 

"  Indeed  he  was." 

"  You  are  sure  ?  " 

"Quite  sure.     I  watched  him." 

"  Ah,  but — perhaps  he  did  so  in  hate  or  in  anger,"  said 
Brasilia,  with  a  sigh. 

Anna  was  silent. 

"  Say  !  was  it  not  in  anger  or  in  hate,  Anna  ?  " 

"  I  thought  it  was  in  jealousy,  and  that  you  know  is  a 
sign  of  love." 

"  Oh,  if  I  thought  so !  if  I  thought  so !  how  quickly  I 
would  set  all  that  jealousy  at  rest.  How  soon  I  would 
convince  my  Alick  that  I  care  for  but  him  in  this  whole 
world ! "  she  exclaimed,  fervently  clasping  her  hands. 

"  Indeed,  Brasilia,  I  hope  you  would  do  nothing  of  the 
sort.  He  richly  deserves  to  suffer." 

"  Oh,  Anna !  you  don't  like  Alick,"  said  Brasilia,  re- 
proachfully. 

"  Like  him  ?  No,  that  I  don't !  That's  the  gospel  truth. 
But  there  is  Bick,  so  good-night,  or  rather  good-morning, 
my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Hammond,  kissing  her  cousin  on  the 
brow  and  then  leaving  the  room 

«*  Oh,  if  I  could  believe  as  Anna  suggests,  how  quickly, 


212  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

how  gladly  I  would  set  all  my  Alick's  doubts  at  rest 
But  ah !  it  is  not  so.  He  has  ceased  to  love  me.  I  am 
sure  of  it  now — sure  of  it !  " 

She  struggled  to  keep  back  her  tears,  so  as  not  to  dis- 
tress her  child,  who  was  still  sitting  on  her  lap  and 
watching  her  countenance  with  eyes  full  of  anxious 
sympathy. 

As  soon  as  Anna  had  left  her,  Drusilla  rang  for  Pina, 
and  with  her  maid's  assistance  changed  her  splendid 
evening  dress  for  a  cool  white  wrapper.  Then,  before 
lying  down,  she  superintended  little  Lenny's  morning 
bath  and  toilet,  and  saw  him  eat  his  simple  breakfast  and 
sent  him  out  with  his  nurse  for  a  walk. 

Then  at  last  she  lay  down  to  take  an  hour's  rest,  if  not 
sleep,  before  joining  the  family  at  the  late  breakfast. 

Meanwhile  Anna  hurried  off  to  her  own  room.  Anna 
was  weary  and  drowsy,  and  with  no  heavy  cares  on  her 
mind,  was  only  anxious  to  find  her  pillow  and  go  to  sleep. 
But  to  rest  was  not  to  be  Anna's  good  fortune  that  morn- 
ing. She  found  Dick  just  come  home,  looking  so  hag- 
gard and  harassed  that  his  aspect  terrified  her  into  the 
suspicion  that  her  "  unlucky  dog  "  had  been  so  unfortun- 
ate as  to  meet  with  some  of  his  friends. 

"  Dick !  hi  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 
she  exclaimed. 

"  Matter  ?  Nothing,"  answered  Mr.  Hammond,  telling 
unscrupulously,  and  almost  unconsciously,  the  regulation 
lie  in  such  cases  made  and  provided. 

"  Dick !  when  a  man  says  there  is  nothing  the  matter, 
with  such  a  look  as  that  on  his  face,  it  is  a  sign  there  is 
so  much  the  matter  that  he  dares  not  confess  it.  Now, 
Dick,  I  will  know,"  she  said,  going  to  him,  laying  her 
hands  upon  his  shoulders  and  gazing  steadfastly  into  his 
face. 

"  Well,  Anna,  what  do  you  see  ?  "  he  inquired,  a  little 
sadly,  as  he  met  her  eyes. 

"  I  see  that  you  are  quite  sober,  at  least,  poor  soul ; 
but  oh,  Dick !  you  unfortunate  fellow,  where  have  you 
been  since  we  left  you  !  " 

"  About  town,  Anna." 

"About  town!  Oh,  yes,  exactly!  About  town!  I 
know  too  well  what  that  means.  Oh,  Dick  !  Dick !  we 


ALEXANDER'S  EXPERIENCE.  213 

ought  never  to  bring  you  within  sight  of  a  town !  We 
ought  to  keep  you  in  the  woods  all  the  time.  Now  make 
a  clean  breast  of  it,  Dick.  Whom  have  you  been  with  ?  " 

"  I  happened  to  meet  with  an  old  friend  down  town," 
answered  Dick,  solemnly  and  a  little  maliciously. 

"  An  old  friend  down  town  !  Oh,  precisely  !  I  know 
what  that  means  also  !  Dick  !  Dick !  that  proverb,  *  Save 
me  from  my  friends,'  must  have  been  written  for  you. 
Now  out  with  it  at  once !  How  much  has  your  friend, 
or  set  of  friends,  robbed  you  of  this  time  ?  " 

"  Robbed  me  of,  Anna  ?  " 

"  Yes !  robbed  you  of !  You  know  what  I  mean.  How 
much  have  you  lost?  A  thousand  pounds — ten  thou- 
sand?" 

"  Anna,  you  think  I  have  been  gambling  ?  " 

"  What  else  can  I  think,  Dick  ?  It  breaks  my  heart  to 
think  it,  though." 

"  Anna,  dearest,"  said  Dick,  taking  her  hands  from  his 
shoulder  and  holding  them  in  his  own,  while  he  sought 
her  eyes,  "  Anna,  did  I  not  promise  you  before  we  were 
married,  that  after  I  should  become  your  husband  I 
would  never  touch  cards  or  dice  again?  Answer  me, 
Anna." 

"  Yes,  Dick,  you  did,  dear." 

.  "  And — bad  as  I  was,  at  my  very  worst,  did  you  ever 
know  me  to  break  my  pledged  word  ?  " 

"  No  indeed,  I  never  did,  dear." 

"  And  do  you  think  I  would  begin  by  breaking  it  to 
my  wife  ?  "  he  asked,  gazing  sadly  into  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Dick,  Dick,  my  darling,  I  beg  your  pardon  !  I  do 
indeed ! "  she  said,  throwing  her  arms  around  him  and 
kissing  him  with  such  an  effusion  of  affection  that  it  must 
have  consoled  him  for  her  momentary  injustice.  "  Oh, 
Dick,  forgive  me,  love  ! " 

"  All  right,  Anna,"  he  said,  smiling  and  returning  her 
caresses  with  interest.  "  I  cannot  blame  you  for  doubt- 
ing and  fearing  for  me,  until  time  shall  prove  how  stead- 
fastly I  shall  keep  my  pledge  to  you.  I  only  wish  it 
could  be  otherwise  with  you,  and  that  for  your  own  peace 
you  could  have  full  faith  in  me ;  but  I  know  that  this 
cannot  be  so,  for  it  must  be  a  part  of  my  punishment  for 
past  follies  still  to  inspire  doubt  of  my  future  conduct." 


214  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

He  spoke  gravely  and  sadly,  and  the  tears  rushed  te 
Anna's  eyes  as  she  answered  him : 

"  Oh,  Dick,  darling,  riot  so !  I  never  doubted  you  be- 
fore, and,  after  this,  I  cannot  do  so  again.  It  was  I  who 
was  a  sinner,  Dick,  to  doubt  you  at  all,  you  dear,  good, 
honest " 

— "  Dog,"  added  Dick,  laughing ;  "  for  even  an  unlucky 
dog  may  still  be  an  honest  one.  Yes,  Anna,"  he  added, 
after  a  pause,  "  I  do  think  you  may  begin  to  trust  me. 
We  have  been  married  about  two  years,  and  in  all  that 
time  not  only  have  I  never  touched  cards  or  dice,  but  I 
have  not  even  wished  to  do  so.  For  your  own  peace  of 
mind,  try  to  trust  me,  my  wife." 

"  I  do,  Dick  !  I  do !  It  was  only  your  look  that  alarmed 
me ;  and,  as  we  were  all  safe  at  home  here,  I  could  not 
think  of  anything  but  your  '  friends  '  that  could  happen 
to  you.  And,  more  than  all,  when  I  asked  you  what  was 
the  matter,  you  answered,  '  nothing,'  which,  as  I  hinted 
before  always  means,  *  Nothing  could  be  worse.'  " 

"  Well,  Anna,  it  really  was  « nothing,'  in  one  sense  of 
the  word,  « nothing,'  or  not  much  to  us  that  is." 

"What  was  it,  then?" 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  may  tell  you  without  the  risk  of 
giving  you  any  great  pain.  Alexander  Lyon  has  gone 
mad  with  jealousy. 

Anna  at  first  looked  startled,  and  then  she  burst  into  a 
hearty  peal  of  laughter. 

"  I  never  saw  a  man  out  of  Bedlam  so  frantic,"  con- 
tinued Dick. 

"  I  said  so  ! "  laughed  Anna.  "  Who  is  he  jealous  of  ? 
You  ?  " 

"  Of  the  whole  world,  I  think  !  " 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it.  I  hope  it  will  do  him 
good." 

"  Yes,  but  he  has  challenged  Prince  Ernest  of  Hohen- 
linden,"  said  Dick,  solemnly. 

Anna  became  very  grave. 

"  And  if  he  should  not  be  prevented  he  will  fight  him." 

"  Fight  a  duel !  Dick,  do  you  know  what  you  are  say- 
ing ?  Are  you  hi  your  senses  ?  " 

« I  am.     It  is  Alick  who  is  mad." 


ALEXANDER'S  EXPERIENCE.  215 

«  Fight  a  duel !  What !  in  this  age  and  in  this  coun- 
try?" 

M  Yes,  in  this  age  and  hi  this  country,  my  dear !  And 
I  do  not  see,  for  my  part,  how  it  can  be  helped — I  mean 
prevented — except  by  the  police.  I  saw  the  whole  thing, 
Anna.  Just  as  your  carriage  drove  off,  Alick  claps  his 
hand  upon  the  prince  and  charges  him  then  and  there  with 
insulting  a  lady  and  stealing  a  bouquet.  You  should 
have  seen  Prince  Ernest  then.  Talk  about  the  Germans 
being  phlegmatic  !  Though  Prince  Ernest  is  an  Austrian, 
by  the  way.  Why,  Anna,  he  jumped  two  feet  from  the 
ground  at  the  first  charge,  and  vaulted  four  feet  into  the 
air  at  the  second.  If  they  are  permitted  to  meet,  he  will 
eat  Alick's  head." 

u  A  duel  in  England  !  and  at  this  time  of  the  world !  " 

"  But  you  must  remember  that  it  is  not  to  be  between 
Englishmen,  but  between  an  Austrian  and  an  American 
and  not,  probably,  in  England ;  but  upon  some  of  the  little 
islands  of  the  channel." 

"  I  thought  duels  had  gone  out  about  the  tune  that  rail- 
roads came  in,"  said  Anna. 

«  So  did  I." 

«  Didn't  you  speak  to  Alick  ?  Didn't  you  try  to  pre- 
vent the  challenge  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  did,  but  with  what  hope  of  success  ?  I 
might  as  well  have  preached  to  the  winds  as  to  Alexander ; 
and  as  to  Prince  Ernest,  after  the  first  words  had  passed, 
it  would  have  been  quite  hopeless  as  well  as  very  pre- 
sumptuous to  have  tried  to  expostulate  with  him.  I  did 
not  even  attempt  it.  He  had  been  outraged,  grossly  out- 
raged, and  was  in  a  towering  passion  that  even  overtopped 
Alexander's  fury.  And  if  Alick  had  not  challenged  the 
prince,  the  prince  would  have  challenged  him." 

"  But  the  duel  must  be  stopped !  " 

"  Of  course,  if  possible." 

"What  can  be  done?" 

"  Our  only  hope  is  in  the  police.  It  was  in  this  view  of 
the  case,  and  not  in  any  prospect  of  a  successful  interview 
with  Alick,  that  I  jumped  into  a  cab  and  tried  to  follow 
him  and  find  out  his  address  ;  but  he  had  a  minute's  start 
of  me,  and  so  of  course  I  lost  him.  I  drove  to  Mivart's ; 
but  he  does  not  stop  there,  I  was  told.  I  went  on  specu- 


216  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

lation  to  several  places  where  I  hoped  to  hear  of  him  ;  but 
without  success.  Lastly,  I  did  what  I  should  have  done 
at  first — went  to  Scotland  Yard  and  lodged  information 
of  the  projected  breach  of  the  peace  with  the  police.  Then 
I  came  home.  So  you  see,  my  dear,  it  was  my  anxious 
night  race  through  the  London  streets  that  gave  me  the 
haggard  look  of  a  ruined  gamester." 

u  It  was  nice  of  you,  Dick,  to  take  so  much  trouble  to 
save  that  good  for  nothing  fellow.  Shall  you  tell  Drusa  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not.     You  would  not  advise  me  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  No ;  for  it  would  be  useless  as  well  as  painful  for  her 
to  know  anything  about  it." 

«  You  will  tell  grandpa  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  as  soon  as  he  is  up  and  has  had  his  breakfast,  I 
must  consult  with  him  as  to  what  further  can  be  done. 
Now,  Anna,  dear,  you  had  better  try  to  get  a  little  sleep 
before  breakfast ;  as  for  me,  I  shall  go  and  take  a  bath  and 
get  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  be  off  to  Scotland  Yard  again,  and 
be  back  time  enough  to  meet  my  uncle  when  he  appears." 

So  saying,  Dick  rang  for  his  valet  and  disappeared. 

But  sleep  was  driven  far  from  Anna  for  that  day.  She, 
too,  found  her  best  restorative  in  a  bath,  a  change  of  dress, 
and  a  cup  of  strong  coffee.  Having  drank  this  last,  she 
went  down  into  the  drawing-room  to  wait  for  the  other 
members  of  the  family. 

But  even  there  she  could  not  be  at  rest,  the  news  of  this 
intended  duel  had  excited  her  so  much  ;  and  not  that  she 
cared  for  her  cousin  Alexander,  either,  but  that  she  cared 
for  Drusilla :  and  she  was  anxious  for  the  return  of  Dick, 
to  know  whether  the  detective  policemen  had  succeeded  in 
tracing  Alexander  in  time  to  stop  his  murderous  and  sui- 
cidal purpose.  She  walked  from  window  to  door,  and 
from  door  to  window,  unable  to  sit  still ;  she  took  up  a 
book,  and  laid  it  down ;  tried  her  embroidery  frame,  and 
cast  it  aside,  unable  to  read  or  work ;  she  opened  her  piano, 
but  could  not  play.  So  she  maundered  about  until  the 
family  circle  began  to  gather. 

The  first  that  appeared  was  little  Lenny,  in  the  arms  of 
his  nurse.  He  looked  fresh,  bright  and  gay  from  his  morn- 
ing walk,  and  was  full  of  chatter  about  a  monkey  and  an 
organ  grinder. 

Next  came  Drusilla,  looking  rather  pale,  but  very  pretty 


ALEXANDER'S  EXPERIENCE.  217 

in  her  plainly  banded  dark  hair  and  her  cool  white  morn- 
ing dress.  She  greeted  Anna,  and  then  sat  down  and 
called  her  child  to  her  knee,  and  began  to  ask  him  about 
his  morning  walks.  And  Lenny,  having  found  his  most 
interested  hearer,  chattered  away  faster  than  ever. 

The  third  comer  was  General  Lyon,  looking  quite  re- 
freshed after  several  hours  of  undisturbed  repose. 

"  Good-morning,  my  dears.  I  hope  I  have  not  kept  you 
waiting,"  he  said,  as  he  saluted  the  two  ladies. 

"  Oh  no,  sir ;  we  are  almost  just  assembled,"  said  Dru- 
silla. 

"  Then,  my  dear  Anna,  ring  and  order  breakfast  at  once. 
But  where  is  Dick  ?  At  the  nearest  mews,  giving  his 
opinion  of  the  proprietor's  latest  purchase,  I  dare  say." 

"  Oh,  no,  sir.  He  is  not  there ;  but  he  did  not  feel  like 
sleeping,  so  he  took  a  bath  and  dressed  and  went  out  to 
take  a  walk.  He  told  me  he  would  be  back  in  time  for 
breakfast,"  said  Anna. 

"  And  you  would  have  thought  Anna  was  some  young 
girl  waiting  a  visit  from  her  betrothed,  to  have  seen  her 
go  from  one  window  to  another,  and  gaze  out  up  and  down 
the  street,"  said  Brasilia. 

"  Anna,  you  do  look  a  little  nervous  and  excited  ;  what 
is  the  matter  ?  "  anxiously  inquired  the  General,  for  he,  too, 
feared  that  the  '  unlucky  dog '  might  again  have  broken 
bounds  and  given  her  trouble.  "  What  is  it,  Anna  ?  " 

"  It  is  loss  of  rest,  grandpa.  I  could  not  sleep,  so  I  did 
not  even  lie  down.  These  late  hours  are  a  terrible  tax  on  a 
country-bred  woman  like  myself,"  replied  Anna,  evasively. 

"  To  everybody,  Anna.  I  must  really  put  my  veto  upon 
parties  for  every  night.  For  once  a  week  now  I  would 

consent  to  them But  here  is  Dick  at  last ! — Why  the 

deuce  don't  that  fellow  serve  breakfast !  Did  you  ring, 
Anna  ?  " 

«  Yes,  sir ;  and  I  hear  the  jingling  of  cups  on  a  tray  and 
so  I  suppose  he  is  coming,"  said  Anna,  answering  her 
grandpa,  but  looking  anxiously  at  her  husband  as  he  en- 
tered the  room. 

Dick  saw  that  troubled  gaze,  and  smiled  to  reassure  her. 
Then,  after  greeting  the  General  and  Drusilla,  he  turned 
to  Anna  and  said,  metaphorically,  but  in  a  way  that  she 
understood : 


218  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

«  I  think  I  can  get  that  horse  I  went  after,  Anna." 

M  There !  I  knew  he  had  been  to  a  stable,  and  Anna 
said  he  hadn't,"  laughed  the  General. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  he  had  gone  to  one,  grandpa." 

"  Of  course  you  did  not,  my  child,  or  you  wouldn't  have 
spoken  so.  But  you  see,  I  knew  him  better  even  than 
you  did.  And  now  let  us  have  breakfast." 

As  soon  as  the  morning  meal  was  over,  Drusilla  took 
little  Lenny  and  retired  to  her  own  room.  This  was  not 
her  custom  in  the  forenoon  ;  but  on  this  occasion  she  acted 
with  a  purpose.  She  had  not  failed  to  see  that  both  Anna 
and  Dick  were  seriously  disturbed,  and  that  they  wished 
to  be  alone  with  the  head  of  the  family ;  but  she  had  not 
in  her  thoughts  connected  their  disturbance  in  any  man- 
ner with  her  own  husband.  On  the  contrary,  she,  too, 
unjustly  suspected  poor  Dick  of  having  in  some  manner 
fallen  from  grace — of  having,  perhaps,  been  tempted  to  a 
gambling  table  and  lost  more  money  than  he  could  just 
then  conveniently  pay,  and  of  being  forced  to  apply  to 
the  General.  So  hard,  ycu  see,  it  is  for  a  young  man  who 
has  once  lost  the  confidence  of  his  friends,  to  recover  it, 
even  from  those  who  love  him  best.  So  never  suspecting 
that  Alexander  was  on  the  verge  of  crime  and  death,  but 
sighing  over  the  supposed  danger  of  poor  Dick,  Drusilla 
sat  down  with  little  Lenny  in  her  own  chamber. 

As  soon  as  the  party  in  the  breakfast  parlor  was  left 
alone,  General  Lyon  rang  for  the  waiter  to  take  away  the 
breakfast  service,  and  when  that  was  done,  he  turned  to 
his  young  people  and  said,  somewhat  sternly,  for  he  still 
suspected  Dick : 

"  Now,  then,  what  is  it  ?  Speak  out.  Let  us  hear  the 
worst,  and  hear  it  at  once,  for  Heaven's  sake." 

"  You  should  have  heard  it  at  once,  but  we  could  not 
say  anything  about  it  before  Drusilla,"  said  Dick. 

"  I  suppose  not.  But  she  is  gone  now,  so  why  do  you 
hesitate  ?  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Sir,  it  is  this  :  Alexander  Lyon  has  challenged  Prince 
Ernest  of  Hohenlinden." 

"  Good  Lord  !  is  the  man  mad  ?  "  exclaimed  the  General. 

*»  Ol  course  he  is.  Every  man  is  mad  who  challenges 
another  to  mortal  combat " 

"  Great  Heaven !  what  is  to  be  done  ?    How  did  you 


ALEXANDER'S  EXPERIENCE.  219 

know  this,  Dick  ?  "  demanded  the  General,  starting  up 
and  beginning  to  walk  the  floor  with  rapid  strides,  as  was 
his  custom  when  greatly  excited.  "How  do  you  know 
this,  Dick,  I  ask  ?  " 

Mr.  Hammond  related  the  discovery  he  had  made  on 
the  morning  after  the  ball. 

"  But,  good  Heaven !  this  purpose  cannot  be  carried  out 
hi  a  Christian  and  civilized  country.  I  do  not  think  that 
at  this  day  of  the  world  any  two  Englishmen  would  ever 
think  of  such  a  barbarism  as  fighting  a  duel,  and  you  may 
depend  that  no  two  foreigners  are  going  to  be  allowed  to 
do  it.  Duel  indeed  !  Chivalry  is  dead,  and  law  reigns  in 
its  stead.  Dick,  you  and  I  must  go  before  some  magis- 
trate and  give  the  information.  We  must  go  at  once. 
I'll  put  on  my  boots  ;  you  call  a  cab,"  said  the  General, 
excitedly. 

"  Sir,  I  went  immediately  and  laid  the  information  be- 
fore the  Chief  of  Police  at  Scotland  Yard.  He  promised 
to  take  prompt  steps  to  arrest  the  challenger  and  prevent 
the  hostile  meeting.  An  hour  ago  I  went  again  to  the 
office,  and  learned  that  two  detectives  had  been  sent  in 
pursuit  of  the  parties  They  had  not  yet  returned  to  re- 
port at  the  office." 

"And  that  is  all  you  know? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  we  must  go  all  the  same.  I  cannot  rest  quietly 
here  while  my  dead  brother's  son  is  in  peril,  even  if  he  is 
a  fool  and  a  madman  ! — Jake  ! "  he  called  to  his  passing 
servant,  "  bring  my  boots  to  my  room,  and  then  run  and 
call  a  cab.  And,  my  dear  Anna,"  he  said,  turning  to  his 
granddaughter,  "  put  a  guard  upon  your  face  as  well  as 
upon  your  lips,  in  Drusilla's  presence.  She  must  not 
know  what  has  occurred." 

"I  fear  she  already  suspects  something  wrong,"  an- 
swered Anna. 

"  Oh,  she  probably  thinks  as  you  did,  Anna — that  I  have 
got  into  a  scrape.  I  saw  how  pitifully  she  regarded  me 
as  she  left  the  room.  She  thinks  I  have  fallen  among 
thieves  again.  Well,  let  her  continue  to  think  so ;  better 
that  than  she  should  suspect  the  truth,"  suggested  Dick, 

"  Indeed  she  shall  not  harbor  a  doubt  of  you,  Dick,  dar- 
ling, even  to  save  her  from  the  pain  of  knowing  the  truth. 


220  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

But  never  fear ;  trust  to  me  to  spare  her  feelings  without 
compromising  your  character." 

In  a  very  few  minutes  the  General  came  in  booted  and 
gloved  for  his  drive.  Dick  was  quite  ready  and  the  cab 
was  announced  to  be  waiting.  And  so  with  a  few  last 
words  of  warning  and  encouragement  to  Anna,  they  left 
her  to  go  upon  their  anxious  errand. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  office  of  the  chief  they  re- 
ceived information  that  the  two  detectives  who  had  been 
sent  in  pursuit  of  the  would-be  duellists  had  returned 
and  reported. 

And  this  was  the  substance  of  their  report : 

That  Prince  Ernest  of  Hohenlinden,  with  two  gentle- 
men of  his  suite — being  his  physician  in  ordinary  and  his 
second ;  and  that  Lord  Killcrichtoun,  with  two  attend- 
ants, his  second,  and  his  servant,  had  left  London  by  the 
eight  o'clock  train  for  Southampton. 

"  And  what  the  mischief  have  they  done  that  for  ?  " 
inquired  General  Lyon,  in  perplexity. 

"  Their  intention  seems  clear  enough,  I  think.  They 
mean  to  cross  over  to  some  one  of  the  Channel  Islands, 
where  they  think  they  may  blow  each  other's  brains  out 
comfortably  without  interruption,"  answered  the  chief. 

"  And  now  what  the  deuce  is  to  be  done  ?  They  left  at 
eight,  you  say  ?  It  is  twelve  now,  and  there  is  a  train 
just  starting,  if  I  remember  rightly  ;  and  it  is  too  late  to 
pursue  them  by  this  train  ;  and  there  will  not  be  another 
start  until  three  o'clock,  I  think  ?  At  least  such  is  my 
impression  of  the  hours  of  the  trains  to  Southampton, 
from  looking  over  the  time-table  with  young  Spencer 
yesterday,  before  he  went  down  to  meet  a  friend  who  had 
come  by  the  American  steamer,"  said  the  General. 

"  Yes,  you  are  quite  right  about  the  trains  ;  and  right 
also  about  the  uselessness  of  attempting  to  pursue  these 
madmen  by  rail.  But  I  have  telegraphed  the  police  there 
to  be  on  the  lookout  for  them." 

"  And  we  can  do  nothing  in  the  meantime  ?  " 

«  Nothing  but  wait  patiently." 

"  Can  we  wait  here  ?  "  inquired  the  General. 

u  Certainly,  if  you  can  make  yourselves  comfortable, 
though  it  is  not  a  pleasant  place  to  ask  you  to  sit  down 
in." 


ALEXANDER'S  EXPERIENCE.  221 

M  Thank  you.  We  shall  gladly  avail  ourselves  of  your 
kind  permission.  You  see  we  are  so  very  anxious  on  this 
subject,  that  we  should  like  to  be  at  hand  when  you  re- 
ceive an  answer  to  your  telegram.  How  long  do  you 
think  it  will  be  before  you  get  it  ?  " 

"  Can't  say.  If  they  received  mine  before  the  eight 
o'clock  train  from  London  reaches  Southampton,  they 
might  have  met  the  parties  at  the  station  and  could  have 
answered  me  immediately.  If,  however,  the  train  reached 
there  first,  of  course  the  parties  might  have  got  out  and 
got  off,  and  the  officers  would  in  that  case  have  some 
trouble  to  look  them  up." 

"  So  then  you  may  get  a  telegram  any  moment  now,  or 
you  may  have  to  wait  several  hours,"  said  Dick. 

"  Exactly,"  replied  the  chief. 

"  Then,  uncle,"  said  Dick,  perceiving  that  their  presence 
in  the  office  really  annoyed  or,  at  least,  incommoded  the 
civil  officer,  "  I  think  we  will  adjourn  to  the  White  Swan, 
which  is  only  a  few  steps  from  this,  and  wait  there  until 
Mr.  Harding  receives  his  telegram,  when  perhaps  he  will 
be  kind  enough  to  send  us  word  of  the  news." 

"  Yes,  certainly,  if  you  prefer  that  arrangement,  though 
you  are  quite  welcome  to  remain  here,  if  you  can  make 
yourselves  comfortable  where  there  are  so  many  coming 
and  going." 

"  I  thank  you,  but  we  will  go  to  the  White  Swan,"  said 
the  General,  rising. 

But  just  then  the  clicking  of  the  telegraph-wire  in  the 
adjoining  office  was  heard,  and  the  chief  raised  his  hands, 
saying : 

"  Be  kind  enough  to  stop.  That  may  be  the  answer  we 
expect  now." 

The  General  and  Dick  sat  down  and  waited.  A  few 
minutes  passed,  and  then  a  man  entered  from  the  tele- 
graph office,  and  handed  the  chief  a  folded  paper. 

"  Yes ;  here  it  is ! "  said  Mr.  Harding,  opening  and  read- 
ing : 

"  The  parties  reached  here  at  ten  o'clock  and  took  the 
steamer  for  Guernsey  at  a  quarter  after.  We  wait  orders." 

"  There  you  see,  sir,  it  is  as  I  feared !  They  got  off 
before  my  telegram  could  have  reached  Southampton — 
before,  in  point  of  fact,  it  had  been  dispatched  from 


222  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

London.  And  it  is  as  I  suspected — they  are  going  to  one 
of  the  Channel  Islands  to  kill  each  other  at  their  leisure," 
said  the  chief. 

M  And  now  what  the  deuce  is  to  be  done  ?  Can't  they 
still  be  followed  and  stopped  ?  " 

"I  fear  not  until  they  have  accomplished  their  pur- 
pose. There  is  no  other  boat  leaves  for  Guernsey  until 
to-morrow." 

"No  other  packet?  But,  good  Heavens,  can  we  not 
hire  a  yacht  and  go  in  pursuit  of  them  ?  We  can  run 
down  to  Southampton  by  the  next  train,  and,  in  so  large 
a  port  as  that,  we  could  be  sure  of  being  able  to  charter  a 
vessel  for  the  trip." 

"  I  fear,  sir,  I  should  not  be  justified  in  taking  the 
responsibility  of  incurring  so  great  an  expense,"  said  the 
chief,  slowly. 

"  Oh,  never  mind  the  expense,  man — I  will  take  that 
upon  myself !  I  would  not  grudge  a  thousand  pounds  to 
save  my  mad  nephew  from  this  meditated  crime  and  folly. 
I  will  make  you  quite  safe  in  regard  to  the  expense,  only 
I  should  wish  you  to  send  a  sufficient  police- force  with  me 
to  stop  the  duel  by  force  if  it  cannot  be  done  by  per- 
suasion. Come  !  it  is  only  half -past  twelve  o'clock  now, 
and  the  train  for  Southampton  don't  start  until  three.  You 
have  two  hours  and  a  half  to  make  up  your  mind  and 
make  all  the  necessary  arrangements.  Come,  what  do  you 
say?" 

"  Oh,  of  course  the  thing  can  be  done,  sir,  if  you  choose 
to  incur  the  heavy  expense  of  hiring  the  vessel.  You  can 
take  two  of  our  men  with  you,  and  procure  two  more  at 
Southampton." 

"  All  right !  Now  we  must  go  back  to  our  hotel  to  pre- 
pare for  our  journey.  There  is  the  address.  Now  how 
soon  will  you  send  the  men  up  to  us  ?" 

"  In  an  hour,  sir,  or  at  least  in  good  time  for  you  to  reach 
the  train ;  or  they  can  join  you  at  the  station." 

"  I  would  rather  they  would  come  up  within  an  hour  at 
furthest  to  our  hotel,  for  then  I  should  feel  surer  of  them, 
and  if  they  do  not  report  at  the  time  specified,  of  course  I 
should  wait  for  them  until  we  get  to  the  station,  and 
then  miss  them  there,  we  should  have  to  go  down  to 
Southampton  without  them.  Send  them  to  our  hotel,  if 


ALEXANDER'S  EXPERIENCE,  228 

possible,  and  as  soon  as  may  be,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Hard- 
ing." 

"  I  will  do  so,  General,"  answered  the  chief. 

And  the  General  and  Mr.  Hammond  left  the  police 
office  and  returned  to  the  Morley  House. 

Here  a  difficulty  met  them — how  to  account  to  Brasilia 
for  their  sudden  journey  without  alarming  her.  Neither 
the  General  nor  Dick  had  ingenuity  enough  to  invent  a 
means  of  satisfying  her  mind  without  telling  her  an  un- 
truth. 

"  We  must  leave  it  to  Anna's  wit,"  said  Dick,  as  they 
entered  the  house.  And  the  General  assented. 

On  entering  the  drawing-room,  they  found  no  one  there, 
except  Master  Lenny,  attended  by  his  nurse. 

"  Where  are  the  ladies  ?  "  inquired  the  General. 

"  They  are  both  in  their  rooms  fast  asleep,  sir,"  aiv. 
swered  Pina. 

"  Then  go  and  wake  up  Mrs.  Hammond,  and  ask  her  to 
come  to  us  quickly  here.  And  don't,  upon  any  account, 
disturb  Mrs.  Lyon,"  said  the  General. 

Pina  left  the  room,  with  little  Lenny  lagging  after 
her. 

"  It  is  very  fortunate  the  two  ladies  are  asleep,  for  now 
we  can  get  Anna  here,  and  talk  to  her  alone ;  tell  her  all 
that  we  have  learned,  and  warn  her  how  to  deal  with 
Drusilla,"  said  the  General. 

Pina  soon  returned,  with  Mrs.  Hammond,  who  in  her 
great  anxiety  to  hear  the  news  came  into  the  drawing- 
room  just  as  she  had  risen  from  her  bed,  with  her  white 
dressing-gown  wrapped  around  her,  and  her  fair  hair 
flowing  over  her  shoulders. 

"  And  now  ? — And  now  ? — What  ?  "  she  eagerly,  breath- 
lessly demanded. 

"  Pina,  my  good  girl,  take  little  Lenny  down  to  the 
walk,"  said  the  General.  And  when  the  nurse  had  taken 
the  child  from  the  room,  he  turned  to  Anna,  and  said : 

"  We  know  all  that  can  be  known  now,  my  love." 

"  Good  Heavens  !  they  have  not  met  with  any  fatal  re- 
sult ?  "  she  gasped. 

"No,  don't  be  alarmed!  They  have  not  met!  but 
they  have  gone  off  to  one  of  the  Channel  islands,  to  carry 
out  their  intentions.  And  Dick  and  myself  are  going  to 


224  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

follow  them  with  police  sufficient  to  stop  the  duel  by 
force,  if  we  cannot  do  it  by  persuasion." 

"  When  do  you  leave  ?  " 

"  By  the  three  o'clock  train.  It  is  one  now,  and  we 
should  leave  the  house  a  little  after  two ;  we  have  not 
much  more  than  an  hour  to  prepare  ;  so,  my  dear,  I  wish 
you  would  just  order  us  up  a  lunch,  and  then  go  and  see 
to  having  a  change  of  underclothing  and  a  few  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  put  up  for  Dick  and  myself." 

"  Yes  ; — but  now — Drusilla  ?  She  is  asleep.  Of  course, 
you  would  not  wish  her  disturbed  ?  "  said  Anna,  pausing 
at  the  door. 

"  By  no  means  !  For  every  reason,  let  her  sleep  until 
we  are  off.  We  must  go  without  bidding  her  good-by 
And  we  must  trust  to  you,  Anna,  to  make  our  apologies 
to  her,  and  also  to  explain  our  absence,  without  telling 
the  cause  of  our  journey." 

"  A  most  difficult  task,  my  dear  grandpa ;  but  I  will 
undertake  it,"  said  Anna,  as  she  left  the  room. 

The  General  and  his  nephew  also  went  to  their  cham- 
bers to  put  themselves  in  what  Dick  called  traveling  rig. 
When  they  returned  to  the  drawing-room  they  found 
their  lunch  on  the  table,  and  their  two  portmanteaus  on 
the  floor,  and  Anna  presiding  over^these  preparations. 

"  Half  past  one  o'clock  !  We  have  scarcely  an  hour  now 
to  get  our  lunch  and  reach  the  train  in  time.  Sit  down 
at  once,  Dick,"  said  the  General,  placing  himself  at  the 
table. 

Dick  and  Anna  followed  his  example. 

"  Where  is  little  Lenny  ?  I  would  like  him  to  take  lunch 
with  us  this  last  time  before  we  go.  Where  is  he,  Anna, 
my  dear  ?  "  inquired  the  General. 

"  Dear  grandpa,  don't  you  know  you  sent  him  out  to 
walk  with  Pina  ?  " 

"  Oh !  yes !  so  I  did  !  That  was  to  get  rid  of  the  girl 
while  I  talked  with  you,"  said  the  General,  in  a  low  tone, 
then  raising  his  voice,  he  called  to  Jacob,  who  stood  wait- 
ing at  some  little  distance,  and  said  : 

"  Here,  you,  Jake  !  Go  out  upon  the  sidewalk,  or  around 
the  square,  and  see  if  you  can  find  Master  Lenny  and  his 
nurse  ;  and  if  you  can,  then  tell  Pina  to  bring  him  home 
immediately,  I  wish  to  see  him  before  I  leave. " 


ALEXANDER'S  EXPERIENCE.  225 

"  Yes,  sir,  I'll  find  them.  I  saw  them  on  the  corner 
watching  of  a  Punch  and  Judy,  not  half  an  hour  ago,"  said 
the  boy,  bowing  and  leaving  the  room. 

"  I  do  want  to  see  the  little  fellow,  and  kiss  him  good- 
by  before  we  go,"  said  the  General,  apologetically,  as  he 
poured  for  himself  a  glass  of  sherry. 

"  La,  grandpa,  you  talk  as  if  you  were  going  to  the  anti- 
podes," laughed  Mrs.  Hammond. 

"  I  dare  say  I  talk  like  an  old  fool,  Anna,  but  I  am  very 
foolishly  fond  of  that  little  fellow." 

"  Oh,  grandpa,  I  did  not  mean  to  say  anything  of  the 
kind,  and  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  Tut,  tut,  I  knew  you  didn't.  Come,  Dick,  have  you 
got  through  ?  " 

"  Very  nearly.     There  is  time  enough,  sir." 

"  I  wouldn't  miss  the  train  for  a  thousand  pounds 
And  bless  my  soul,  those  men  from  Scotland  Yard  have 
not  reported  yet.  I  do  hope  they  will  be  punctual,"  said 
the  General,  impatiently. 

At  that  moment  the  waiter  appeared,  and  announced 
two  persons  below  inquiring  for  General  Lyon  or  Mr. 
Hammond. 

"  Our  men  at  last,"  said  Dick,  "  tell  them  to  wait  for  us 
in  the  hall." 

The  waiter  went  out  to  take  the  message. 

And  the  General  and  Dick  completed  their  last  prepara- 
tions. 

"  And  that  child  hasn't  come  yet ! "  exclaimed  the  Gen- 
eral,  very  impatiently. 

"Time  enough,  uncle — the  cab  hasn't  come  yet,"  said 
Dick. 

But  at  that  instant  the  waiter  once  more  appeared  and 
announced  the  cab. 

"  Let  us  go,"  said  Dick. 

"  Not  yet ;  we  can  wait  five  minutes  for  little  Lenny ^ 
"Waiter,  will  you  oblige  me  by  going  out  upon  the  side- 
walk and  looking  for  my  servants,  and  if  you  find  them 
tell  them  to  come  in  immediately  with  Master  Leonard.  I 
want  to  see  him  before  I  leave  town." 

"Certainly,  sir,"  said  the  man,  hurrying  from  the 
room. 

And  General  Lyon  sat  down  to  wait  impatiently,  while 
'5 


226  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Dick  and  Anna  stood  withdrawn  into  the  bay  window, 
making  their  adieux. 

"  Indeed,  dear  Anna,"  said  Dick,  "  I  would  rather  you 
should  let  Drusilla  think  it  is  some  scrape  of  mine  that 
has  carried  us  off  from  London  than  that  you  should  per- 
mit her  to  suspect  the  truth.  It  will  not  matter  to  let 
her  deceive  herself  for  a  few  hours  or  days,  until  the  sus- 
pense and  danger  shall  be  over." 

"  I  will  do  the  best  I  can ;  but,  oh,  Dick !  do  you  think 
that  you  can  possibly  be  in  time  ?  in  time  to  prevent  a 
fatal  meeting  ?  "  she  anxiously  inquired. 

"  We  must  try  to  do  so ;  we  must  do  our  utmost  and 
trust  the  event  to  Providence." 

«  Dick,"  said  the  General,  impatiently  interrupting  them, 
"our  five  minutes  are  up,  and  neither  little  Lenny,  our 
servants,  or  the  waiter  has  returned.  Pray,  Dick,  oblige 
me  by  going  out  for  a  few  minutes  to  see  if  they  are  com- 
ing. I  hate  to  trouble  you,  my  boy,  but  I  must  kiss  little 
Lenny  before  we  go." 

"  Oh,  I  will  look  for  him  with  pleasure,  sir.  I  dare  say 
he  and  his  whole  suite  of  attendants  are  gathered  around 
some  organ  grinder,  monkey,  or  dancing  dog,  and  can't 
tear  themselves  away  from  the  attraction,"  laughed  Dick, 
as  he  hurriedly  left  the  room. 

Again  the  General  sat  down  to  wait,  but  being  very 
restless  and  impatient,  again  started  up  and  walked  the 
floor  with  rapid  strides  for  three  or  four  minutes. 

"  Another  five  minutes  gone  !  "  he  presently  exclaimed 
~— "  another  five  minutes  gone,  and  none  of  them  returned 
yet ;  and  now  I  have  not  a  second  more  of  time  left.  I 
will  go  down  and  look  after  them  myself." 

And  so  saying,  he  picked  up  his  hat  and  rushed  down- 
Btairs  and  out  of  the  street  door. 

He  met  Dick,  the  waiter  and  Jacob,  hurrying  towards 
the  house. 

«  Well !  well !  Where  is  little  Lenny  ?  "  he  quickly 
demanded. 

"  We  cannot  find  him  or  his  nurse  anywhere,"  said  the 
waiter. 

"  I  saw  them  with  the  Punch  and  Judy  half  an  hour 
ago.  I  reckon  as  they  followed  of  'em  to  some  distant 
street,"  said  Jacob. 


THE  MISSING  BOY.  227 

"  I  do  not  think  there  is  the  slightest  reason  to  be 
alarmed.  Pina  is  quite  capable  of  taking  care  of  the 
child,"  remarked  Dick. 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  in  the  least  alarmed  about  little  Lenny  ;, 
I  was  only  anxious  to  bid  the  little  fellow  good-by  before 
leaving  town ;  but,  if  I  cannot  do  so,  I  must  be  content. 
Well,  Dick,  my  boy,  we  must  really  now  be  off.  We  will 
run  up  and  bid  Anna  good-by  and  go,"  said  the  General. 

But  Anna  saved  them  the  trouble.  She  came  down- 
stairs, followed  by  a  porter  bringing  the  travelers'  port- 
manteaus, which  were  placed  in  the  cab.  The  policemen 
were  in  waiting. 

General  Lyon  and  Dick  kissed  and  blessed  Anna,  and, 
commended  Drusilla  and  little  Lenny  to  her  care  ;  and 
then  entered  their  cab,  followed  by  their  attendants,  and. 
their  whole  party  set  out  for  the  railroad  station. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE    MISSING    BOY. 

Go,  when  the  hunter's  hand  hath  wrung 

From  forest  caves  her  shrieking  young, 

And  calm  the  lonely  lioness  ; 

But  soothe  not,  mock  not,  my  distress. — BYRON. 

ASTXA  returned  to  the  drawing-room  to  face  the  diffi- 
culty of  her  duty  to  keep  Drusilla  ignorant  of  the  real 
cause  of  General  Lyon's  and  Richard  Hammond's  journey 
to  Southampton,  and  to  do  this  without  either  telling  or 
acting  a  falsehood.  She  wished  to  put  off  the  evil  hour  as 
long  as  possible,  so  as  to  have  time  to  perfect  her  plan  of 
action,  and  therefore  she  kept  away  from  Drusilla's  cham- 
ber and  remained  in  the  drawing-room. 

Drusilla's  sleep  was  long  and  unbroken.  It  was  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  before  she  joined  Anna.  She — 
Drusilla — looked  refreshed  and  blooming. 

"You  have  had  a  good  nap,"  said  Anna. 

"Yes,"  said  Drusilla,  smiling,  as  she  sat  down,  but 
looking  all  round  as  if  in  search  of  some  one. 

"  You  are  looking  for  grandpa  and  Dick  ?  "  said  Anna 


228  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Yes,  and  for  little  Lenny  and  Pina,"  answered  Dm- 
•silla. 

"  Oh,  little  Lenny  is  out  with  his  nurse,"  said  Anna, 
willingly  answering  the  easiest  part  of  the  observation 
first. 

"  And  uncle  and  Dick  are  sleeping  off  their  last  night's 
fatigue,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  poor  souls !  they  are  incurring  more  fatigue,"  said 
Anna,  smiling,  and  trying  to  give  a  light  and  playful  turn 
to  the  conversation. 

"  Why,  where  are  they  gone  ?  "  exclaimed  Drusilla,  rais- 
ing her  brows  in  surprise. 

"  On  a  nice  little  jaunt  to  Southampton." 

"  To  Southampton  ?    What  is  the  occasion? " 

"  Well,  you  see,  one  of  Dick's  good-for-nothing  *  friends,' 
or  rather,  to  speak  the  exact  truth,  one  of  his  former  good- 
for-nothing  '  friends '  has  been  getting  himself  into  trouble. 
Of  course  poor  Dick  must  needs  take  pity  on  him,  and  so 
my  poor  fellow  and  my  grandfather  have  both  gone  down 
to  Southampton  to  get  him — Dick's  old  friend — out  of  it." 

"  Ah !  and  that  was  the  matter  with  Dick  and  uncle 
this  morning  at  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Dick  had  the  subject  on  his  mind,  and  wished 
to  break  it  to  grandpa,  and  grandpa  saw  that  he  had  some- 
thing to  say  to  him,  and  was  both  longing  and  dreading 
to  hear  it ;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  suppose  he  was  fearing 
that  Dick  himself  had  got  into  a  mess  of  some  sort,  and  I 
dare  say  you  were  thinking  the  same  thing,  Drusilla." 

«  Well,  perhaps  I  was  ;  for  our  affections  make  us  fear- 
ful for  those  we  love,  Anna  ;  and  you  and  Dick  are  just  as 
dear  to  me  as  the  dearest  brother  and  sister  could  possibly 
be." 

M  Well,  darling,  I  know  that,  and  your  love  is  not  lost 
on  us,  you  may  be  sure.  Be  at  ease  on  our  behalf,  as  it 
was  not  Dick  but  one  of  his  old  friends  that  got  into  a 
scrape." 

"  I  am  both  glad  and  sorry.  I  am  glad  it  was  not  Dick, 
and  sorry  that  I  did  him  the  wrong  to  think  it  could  have 
been.  But — who  was  it,  then,  Anna,  if  I  may  ask  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  now,  my  dear,  that  would  be  telling.  I  assure 
you  Dick  would  not  have  told  grandpa  if  he  could  have  got 
•along  without  his  assistance ;  and  he  would  not  even  have 


THE  MISSING  BOY.  229 

told  me,  his  wife,  if  he  could  have  helped  it.  I  am  sure 
he  would  not  like  to  tell  any  one  else.  Now  you  are  not 
offended  ? " 

"  Offended  ?  Oh  dear,  no — certainly  not,  Anna.  Of 
course  I  see  such  delicate  difficulties  as  I  suppose  this  of 
Dick's  friend  to  be,  should  be  kept  secret  from  all  except 
those  immediately  concerned  in  settling  them 1  won- 
der why  that  girl  doesn't  bring  little  Lenny  in  ? "  said 
Drusilla,  suddenly  changing  the  subject,  and  going  to  the 
window  to  look  out. 

"  Yes,  it  is  time  she  did,  indeed.     I  dare  say  she  will  be  '• 
here  with  him  in  a  few  minutes,"  answered  Anna,  very 
glad  to  have  weathered  the  storm  she  had  so  much  dreaded. 

"  Anna,  dear,  what  time  did  Pina  take  little  Lenny  out  ?  " 
inquired  Drusilla,  rather  uneasily. 

"  Immediately  before  luncheon." 

"  What  time  was  that  to-day  ?  " 

«  About  two  o'clock." 

"  And  now  it  is  after  four ;  and  she  has  had  him  out 
more  than  two  hours,  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  day,  too. 
What  could  have  tempted  her  to  take  the  child  out  at  this 
time  of  the  day  ?  " 

"  Drusa,  dear,  this  was  the  way  of  it :  Grandpa  and 
Dick  wished  to  explain  to  me  the  necessity  of  their  im- 
mediate departure  for  Southampton.  Little  Lenny  and  his 
nurse  were  in  the  room.  Grandpa  and  Dick  did  not  want 
any  other  listener  than  myself,  so  they  told  Pina  to  take 
the  child  down  to  the  sidewalk,  thinking,  of  course,  that 
so  careful  a  nurse  would  keep  him  in  the  shade.  So  you 
see  the  girl  was  not  to  blame  for  taking  the  child  out ; 
though  certainly  I  think  she  is  for  keeping  him  out  so 
long.  But  still  I  don't  think  you  need  be  uneasy,  Drusa. 
Pina  is  no  strange  nurse.  You  have  known  her  well  for 
three  years,  and  she  has  had  the  care  of  your  child  for 
two,  and  has  always  proved  herself  worthy  of  the  trust. 
I  hope  you  are  not  uneasy  about  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  That  is,  I  know  I  have  no  reason  to  be  so, 
for  Pina  takes  as  great  care  of  him  as  I  could  myself,  only 
I  think  mothers  are  always  uneasy  when  their  infants  are 
out  of  sight.  I  wish  she  would  return." 

"Oh,  she  will  be  back  in  a  few  minutes,"  said  Anna, 
cheerfully. 


230  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Listen  !  there  is  some  one  coming  up,"  said  Brasilia. 

Steps  and  voices  were  indeed  heard  near  the  room,  and 
almost  immediately  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

u  Come  in,"  said  Anna. 

The  door  was  opened  by  a  waiter,  who  put  in  his  head 
and  said: 

tt  If  you  please,  my  ladies,  here  is  a  policeman  brought 
home  your  nursemaid  almost  in  fits." 

u  Lenny !  where  is  Lenny  ?  Has  anything  happened  to 
him  ?  Have  you  brought  home  my  child  ?  "  cried  Bra- 
silia, starting  up  and  rushing  to  the  door  before  Anna 
could  even  answer. 

"  My  child !  my  child !  where  is  my  child  ?  "  she  cried, 
clasping  her  hands  in  an  agony  of  terror. 

"  My  lady,  from  the  girl's  ravings  I'm  afeard  she  has — 
well,  not  to  make  it  any  worse  than  what  it  is — mislaid 
the  child  some'rs  or  other,"  said  the  policeman,  coming 
forward  half  helping  and  half  dragging  Pina,  who,  as  soon 
as  she  saw  her  mistress,  sank  with  a  gasp  of  mute  anguish 
at  her  feet. 

"  Lenny  !  Lenny  lost !  Oh,  Father  !  Oh,  Heavenly 
Father,  have  mercy ! "  cried  Brasilia,  reeling  back  into 
the  arms  of  Anna,  who  sprang  forward  to  support  her. 

"  The  child  missing  !  What  do  you  mean  ?  It  can- 
not be !  Pina,  where  is  little  Lenny  ?  "  demanded  Anna, 
scarcely  able  to  control  her  own  terror  and  distress,  even 
while  she  sustained  the  agonized  mother.  "  Answer  me, 
Pina,  I  say  !  Where  is  little  Lenny  ?  " 

But  Pina  was  past  answering,  past  everything  but 
grovelling  at  their  feet  and  bowling  and  tearing  her 
hair. 

"  Has  the  girl  gone  suddenly  mad  and  so  lost  the  child  ? 
Policeman,  where  and  under  what  circumstances  did  you 
find  her  ?  Waiter,  bring  forward  that  easy-chair." 

The  chair  was  rolled  forward  and  Brasilia  was  eased 
into  it,  where  she  sat  pale,  and  mute,  every  sense  on  the 
yrui  vive  to  hear  the  policeman's  story.  Terrified,  agon- 
ized, yet  with  a  mighty  effort  holding  herself  still  and 
•calm,"  the  bereaved  young  mother  sat  and  listened  to  the 
policeman's  account  of  his  meeting  with  the  nurse,  after 
the  loss  of  the  child. 

"  If  you  please,  my  ladies,  I  first  saw  her  hi  the  Strand, 


THE  MISSING  BOY.  231 

tearing  up  and  down  the  street,  running  after  babies  and 
nurses  and  bursting  into  shops  and  houses,  and  going  on 
generally  like  one  raving,  distracted,  with  a  rabble  of  boys 
at  her  heels  hooting  and  jeering.  So  she  being  complained 
of  by  certain  parties  as  she  annoyed  and  I,  suspecting  of 
hereto  be  a  madwoman  broke  loose  from  Bedlam, or 
leastways  making  a  great  disturbance  in  the  streets,  I 
ta'ces  her  into  custody,  and  should  have  took  her  off  to 
the  station-house  and  locked  her  up,  only  she  began  to 
howl  about  the  child  she  had  lost,  and  I  began  to  see 
what  had  happened  to  her  and  how  it  was  ;  and  I  asked 
her  where  she  lived,  and  she  told  me  and  I  brought  her 
here  ;  and  that  is  all  about  it,  my  ladies  ;  but  if  you  can 
get  more  out  of  her  nor  I  could,  I  think  it  would  be  well 
you  should,  and  then  maybe  we  could  help  you  to  get 
the  child,  my  lady,"  said  officer  E,  48. 

"  Oh,  missus  !  missus  !  kill  me  !  kill  me  !  it  would  be  a 
mercy !  "  cried  Pina,  wringing  her  hands. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  justice,  at  least,"  answered  Anna, 
sternly. 

"  Where  did  you  lose  sight  of  him,  Pina  ?  "  inquired 
the  young  mother,  in  a  strangely  quiet  manner. 

u  Oh,  missus !  oh,  missus  !  knock  me  in  the  head  and 
put  me  out  of  my  misery !  do !  do !  do !  "  cried  Pina, 
gnashing  her  teeth  and  tearing  her  hair,  rolling  on  the 
floor  and  giving  way  to  all  her  excess  of  grief  and  despair^ 
with  all  the  utter  abandonment  of  her  race. 

"  Pina !  "  sternly  exclaimed  Anna  Hammond,  "  unless 
you  are  coherent  and  tell  us  where  you  lost  Lenny,  we 
shall  not  know  where  to  look  for  him.  Speak  at  once  ! 
where  was  it  that  you  first  missed  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  ma'am  !  Oh,  Miss  Anna !  Strike  me  dead  for 
pity  !  Oh,  do !  oh,  do ! "  cried  the  girl,  growing  wilder 
every  moment. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  that  was  about  all  I  could  get  out  of  her 
either.  Begging  and  a  praying  of  me  to  take  her  up  and 
hang  her  because  she  had  lost  the  boy.  To  hang  her,  to 
hang  her,  to  hang  her  up  by  the  neck  until  she  was  dead, 
dead,  dead,  was  all  her  prayer." 

"  Waiter,"  said  Drusilla,  who,  though  agonized  with 
grief  and  fear  for  her  lost  child,  was  now  the  most  self- 
controlled  and  thoughtful  of  the  party — "waiter,  go 


232  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

quickly  and  fetch  a  glass  of  wine  to  this  girl.  It  may 
restore  her  faculties." 

The  man  sprang  to  do  the  lady's  bidding,  and  soon  re- 
turned with  a  bottle  of  sherry  and  a  glass. 

Drusilla  herself  filled  the  glass,  and  kneeling  down 
beside  her,  put  it  to  the  lips  of  the  prostrate  girl. 

M  No,  no,  no !  "  cried  Pina,  pushing  away  the  glass,  and 
spilling  its  contents — "  no,  no,  no,  I  won't  take  it,  I  won't 
get  better,  I  won't  live  !  Somebody  ought  to  smash  me 
for  losing  little  Lenny,  and  if  they  don't  I'll  die  myself  !  I 
will !  I  will !" 

«  Pina !  nobody  blames  you,  at  least  I  do  not.  Nobody 
wants  you  to  die,  or  to  be  punished.  Drink  this,  Pina,  so 
you  may  be  better  able  to  tell  me  about  my  child,"  said 
Drusilla,  gently,  as  she  again  offered  wine  to  the  girl. 

u  Oh,  missus !  Oh,  missus  !  if  it  was  poison  I  would 
take  it  cheerful,  I  would !  for  it  do  break  my  heart  to 
look  in  your  face  and  to  think  what  I  done ! " 

M  You  did  nothing  wicked,  I'm  sure.  If  you  feel  so 
much  for  me,  drink  this,  for  my  sake,  so  that  you  may  be 
better  able  to  tell  me  about  my  child." 

"  I'll  do  anything  for  your  sake,  missus !  good- 
ness knows  I  will !  "  said  Pina,  as  she  swallowed  the 
wine. 

"  Give  her  another  glass,  mum.  She'll  hardly  feel  that 
in  her  condition,"  advised  the  experienced  policeman. 

Drusilla  hesitated.  But  Anna,  less  scrupulous,  took  the 
bottle  and  glass  from  her  hand,  filled  the  glass  again  and 
put  it  to  Pina's  lips  with  a  peremptory : 

«  Drink  this  at  once." 

"Must  I,  missus?"  asked  Pina,  turning  to  her  mis- 
tress. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Drusilla. 

And  Pina  swallowed  the  second  portion  of  wine. 

M  Now,"  said  the  policeman,  after  a  few  moments,  ex- 
tending his  hand  to  Pina,  lifting  her  up  and  placing  her 
upon  a  chair — "  now,  my  good  girl,  open  your  mouth  and 
tell  us  all,  how  and  about  the  loss  of  the  child." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Pina,  bursting  into  tears  afresh,  "  it  was 
him  at  the  bottom  of  it  all,  I  know  it  was  ! " 

«  Who  ?  "  inquired  E.  48. 

"  Him,  Mr.  Alexander,  Mr.  Lyon,  Lord  Killchristians, 


THE  MISSING  BOY.  233 

as  they  call  him  over  here.  Oh,  dear !  Oh,  dear !  Oh, 
me  !  Oh,  little  Lenny !  " 

"  His  father ! "  exclaimed  Drusilla,  in  a  half  suppressed 
tone.  And  she  breathed  somewhat  more  freely ;  for  she 
felt  that  if  Lenny  were  with  his  father,  the  child  was  in 
no  immediate  personal  danger — nay  more,  that  his  deten- 
tion was  but  temporary  ;  that  he  would  soon  be  restored 
to  her  again.  She  thought  that  her  husband  might  have 
ceased  to  love  her,  but  she  knew  that  he  never  would 
deliberately  do  the  deadly  wrong  of  tearing  her  child 
from  her.  Still  she  was  intensely  anxious  to  hear  the 
details  of  the  abduction  ;  but  she  was  also  extremely  un- 
willing to  admit  strangers  to  a  participation  of  the  intelli- 
gence that  involved  so  much  of  her  private  history  and 
domestic  sorrows. 

All  these  thoughts  and  feelings  passed  rapidly  through 
her  mind,  while  Pina  was  giving  her  answer,  so  when  the 
policeman  would  have  continued  the  examination  by  ask- 
ing : 

"  Who  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  did  you  say,  young 
woman  ?  did  you  say  a  gentleman  and — a  lord  ?  How 
was  that  ?  And  what  lord  was  it  ?  " 

"  Lord  Killchristians !  Mr.  Alexander  Lyon  as  used 
to  was,  and  a  notorious  willy un  too!  and  the  chiM's 
own " 

Here  Drusilla  broke  into  the  conversation : 

"  Officer,  these  are  private  matters.  I  thank  you  very- 
much  for  having  brought  this  poor  girl  safely  home,  and 
I  hope  you  will  accept  this  trifle  in  payment,"  she  added, 
placing  a  sovereign  in  his  hand.  "  You  may  leave  us  now. 
We  will  examine  this  girl,  and  if  we  find  that  your  services 
should  be  required  in  the  search,  we  will  send  for  you ;  or 
you  can  call  here  in  the  course  of  an  hour." 

"  Thank  you,  my  lady.  I  will  call  and  see  if  I  am 
wanted  at  the  time  you  say,"  answered  the  policeman, 
lifting  his  hand  to  his  head  by  way  of  salute,  and  then 
leaving  the  room,  followed  by  the  waiter. 

u  Now  then,  Pina,  you  say  that  little  Lenny's  father 
has  got  him  ? "  said  Drusilla,  trembling  with  excess  of 
emotion,  yet  still  striving  to  keep  calm. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  suppose  he  has  by  this  time,"  sobbed! 
the  girl. 


234:  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

«  You  suppose  he  has  by  this  time  ?  Pina,  Pina !  that 
is  not  what  you  said  before.  Pina,  what  do  you  mean  ? 
You  surely  said  his  lather  had  him !  " 

"  I  said  Mr.  Lyon  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  ma'am — at 
the  bottom  of  little  Lenny's  being  carried  off,  I  mean — 
and  I  stand  to  it,  as  he  was !  " 

«  Oh,  Heaven !  did  not  his  father  carry  him  off,  then  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am ;  not  with  his  own  hands,  but  he  was  at 
the  bottom  of  it— I  say  it,  and  I  stand  to  it !  " 

"  Merciful  Heaven !  if  his  father  did  not  carry  him  off 
Who  then  did  ?  Girl,  girl !  do  you  know  how  you  torture 
me  ?  I  thought  at  first  my  Lenny  had  been  lost  by  stray- 
ing away  from  you ;  then  you  said  his  father  was  con- 
cerned in  his  disappearance  :  now  you  say  his  father  did 
not  take  him  ?  In  the  name  of  Mercy,  who  did  ?  Speak 
— for  the  Lord's  sake,  speak  quickly  ?  " 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  I  will — I  will  tell  you  all  I  know,  but 
•don't,  don't  look  so — don't,  ma'am,  or  you'll  kill  me ! " 
sobbed  Pina. 

"  TELL  WHO  TOOK  THE  CHILD  THEN  !  "  said  Anna,  speak- 
ing sternly  and  stamping  her  foot. 

"  I  DON'T  KNOW  WHO  DID  ! "  burst,  amid  sobs,  from 
Pina's  lips. 

Brasilia  stifled  the  shrieks  that  were  ready  to  burst 
from  her  lips. 

"You  don't  know  who  did!  Why,  then,  did  you 
accuse  Lord  Killcrichtoun  ?  "  demanded  Anna. 

"  I  didn't  accuse  him,  ma'am — I  said  as  he  was  at  the 
bottom  of  it,"  said  Pina,  who  seemed  to  be  unable  to 
change  her  phraseology.  "  I  said  he  was  at  the  bottom  of 
it,  and  I  stand  to  it  as  he  was ! " 

«  Oh,  Anna,  Anna,  time  flies !  If  Lenny  is  not  with 
Alick,  where  is  he  ?  Oh,  where  is  he  ?  He  must  be 
found  at  once — at  once  !  I  cannot  live  or  breathe  till  he 
is  found !  She  must  be  made  to  tell  how  she  lost  him  !  " 
cried  Brasilia,  losing  all  her  self-command  and  starting 
up  in  great  excitement, — "  He  must  be  sought  for,  Anna  ! 
lie  must  be  sought  for  at  once !  " 

«Of  course  he  must;  but  the  search  must  be  com- 
menced with  this  girl  who  was  the  last  person  with  him. 
Pina,  you  say  you  don't  know  who  took  the  child  from 
you?" 


THE  MISSING  BOY.  235 

"  No,  ma'am,  I  don't — but  know  his  father  was  at  the 
bottom  of  it — I  know  it,  and  I'll  stand  to  it !  " 

"  Why  do  you  thiiik  so  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Anna,  Anna,  you  lose  time  with  all  this  talk !  " 

"  No,  I  don't ;  we  must  find  out  from  her  where  and 
how  we  are  to  begin  to  search.  Now,  Pina,  why  do  you 
think  Lord  Killcrichtoun  was  concerned  in  this  matter  ?  " 

"  Lor',  ma'am,  because  it  stands  to  reason  as  he  was. 
Lenny  is  his  own  son,  which  also  they  are  very  fond  of 
each  other — Lenny  of  he,  and  him  of  Lenny  !  And  so  it 
was  nateral  he  should  want  to  have  him.  I'm  not  saying 
as  it  was  right  or  anything  like  right,  but  it  was  so !  " 

«  Oh,  Anna,  Anna,  time  flying,  and  no  facts  learned  yet 
— only  conjectures !  Let  me  talk  to  her  myself.  Pina, 
where  were  you  when  you  missed  little  Lenny  ?  "  inquired 
Drusilla,  distractedly. 

"  Oh,  ma'am  !  oh,  missus,  don't  take  on  so — don't,  and 
I  will  tell  you  !  He  was  down  on  the  Strand,  a-looking 
in  at  a  toy-shop — oh,  dear!  oh,  me!  oh,  poor  little 
Lenny ! " 

u  Oil,  for  the  Lord's  sake,  stop  crying  and  tell  me  more  J 
You  were  before  a  toy-shop  you  say  ?  "  said  Drusilla,  in 
extreme  anxiety. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  a-looking  in  at  the  windows,  at  the  wooden 
soldiers,  and  horses,  and  ships  ;  and  there  comes  along  a 
man  with  an  organ  and  a  dancing-monkey.  And  little 
Lenny  turned  away  from  the  window  to  look  at  the  mon- 
key. And  a  crowd  collected.  They  were  mostly  chil- 
dren. And  little  Lenny  is  fond  of  children — and  so — 
oh !  oh,  dear !  oh,  my  heart  will  break !  " 

"  Compose  yourself,  and  go  on,  Pina !  "  said  Anna. 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  Oh  !  oh,  dear !  Yes — well,  little  Lenny 
wanted  to  mix  up  with  them;  but  they  were  mostly 
ragged  and  dirty  street  children,  and  I  was  afeard  of 
fevers,  and  fleas,  and  sich,  and  so  I  kept  him  to  myself,  so 
I  did.  Oh,  oh,  me !  I  wish  I  had  always  kept  him  -to 
myself,  so  I  do,"  sobbed  Pina. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Anna. 

"  And  I  saw  two  ill-looking  men  in  the  crowd.  And 
indeed  I  didn't  think  nothing  of  it  at  the  time,  because 
ill-looking  men  ain't  no  rarity  in  no  city,  and  that  I  knew 
of  my  own  self.  And  these  men,  most  of  their  ill-looks 


236  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

was  in  their  dirty  and  ragged  clothes,  and  bruised  and 
firey  faces.  And  while  I  was  a-takin'  notice  of  them  on 
the  sly,  one  of  'em  says  to  the  other ; 

u '  There — that's  the  young  'un.' 

"  And  the  other  says  : 

«'  Which?' 

u  And  the  first  one  stoops  and  whispers  to  the  other,  so 
I  couldn't  hear.  And  then  they  fell  back  out  of  the 
crowd  a  little  ways,  and  began  to  look  into  the  shop  win- 
dows unconcerned-like.  And  indeed,  indeed,  I  had  no 
notion  then  as  they  had  been  talking  about  little  Lenny, 
such  wilyuns  as  they  were,  though  I  have  thought  so 
since !  Oh,  Lenny  !  oh,  dear  little  Lenny !  I  wish  some- 
body would  knock  my  brains  out,  so  I  do !  Oh,  dear ! 
oh,  dear  !  oh !  " 

"  Pina,  stop  howling  and  go  on  with  this  statement ! " 
said  Anna,  authoritatively,  while  Drusilla  clasped  her 
hands,  and  listened  in  an  agony  of  anxiety. 

"  Well,  ma'am,  after  the  men  turned  away,  little  Lenny 
began  to  tease  me  for  pennies  to  give  to  the  dancing- 
monkey — and  I  gave  him  all  I  had,  and  he  ran  into  the 
crowd  to  put  them  into  the  hat  the  monkey  was  holding 
out." 

"  You  should  not  have  let  him  do  that,"  said  Anna. 

"  Ma'am,  you  know  how  sudden  and  self-willed  he  is ! 
he  sprang  away  from  me  before  I  could  stop  him.  And  I 
ran  after  him  to  bring  him  out.  But,  just  at  that  very 
moment,  there  came  rushing  down  the  sidewalk,  and  right 
through  the  crowd,  a  man  with  his  head  bare  and  bloody, 
followed  by  a  running  crowd,  all  yelling  at  the  top  of 
their  voices : 

« '  Stop  thief !  stop  thief ! ' 

"  And  they  overturned  the  organ  man  and  his  dancing- 
monkey,  and  carried  off  his  crowd  with  them.  I  ran 
after  them  calling  for  little  Lenny,  who  was  swept  out  of 
my  sight  by  the  rushing  stream  of  people.  I  ran  with  all 
my  speed  and  I  called  with  all  my  voice,  but  I  got  knocked 
from  one  side  of  the  walk  to  the  other,  and  thrown 
down  and  run  over,  and  trampled  on,  and  swore  at,  and 
— and  that  was  the  way  I  lost  little  Lenny.  I  was  hunt- 
ing up  and  down  for  him  when  the  policeman  found  me 
and  fetched  me  home.  Oh,  dear !  oh,  me,  that  ever  I 


THE  MISSING  BOY.  237 

should  live  to  see  the  day !  Oh,  missus !  oh,  Miss  Anna  ! 
oh " 

"  Now  stop.  Let  us  talk  calmly  for  a  moment,"  said 
Anna,  reflectively.  "  Let  me  see.  Lenny  could  not  have 
been  hurried  off  by  those  thief -hunters  ;  because,  if  he  had 
been,  a  tender  little  creature  like  himself  would  have  been 
thrown  down,  run  over,  and  left  behind,  and  you  would 
have  found  him  on  the  ground  more  or  less  injured." 

"  That  was  what  I  was  a  dreading  of  every  minute,  Miss 
Anna.  Oh,  little  Lenny !  dear  little  Lenny  !  " 

"  Therefore,"  continued  Anna,  «  as  he  was  not  so  rim 
over  and  left,  he  must  have  been  snatched  up  by  some 
one  and  carried  off  under  cover  of  the  confusion.  The 
kidnapper  probably  darted  up  one  of  the  side  streets  or 
alleys,  and  disappeared  with  his  prey  in  that  way." 

"  That  was  what  I  thought,  too,  Miss  Anna,  when  I  re- 
membered seeing  them  bad-looking  men  and  hearing  what 
they  said.  They  was  a  watching  of  their  opportunity  to 
seize  little  Lenny  and  run  away  with  him ;  and  in  course 
they  must  have  been  set  on  by  his  father,  who  wanted 
him ;  else  what  call  would  they  have  to  take  the  child  ? 
— they  who  don't  look  as  if  they  had  overmuch  love  for 
children,  or  for  any  other  creatures,  to  tell  the  holy  truth ; 
no,  nor  likewise  did  they  look  as  if  they  was  able  to  keep 
themselves  from  starving,  much  less  a  child ;  so  it  stands 
to  reason  as  they  was  hired  to  seize  little  Lenny  by  some 
un  who  did  love  him,  and  ^oas  able  to  keep  him  ;  and  who 
could  that  have  been  but  his  own  father  ?  " 

"  Pina,  I  think  you  are  probably  right  in  your  conjec- 
ture, for  I  cannot  even  imagine  what  motive  two  such 
men  as  you  describe  could  possibly  have  for  stealing  a 
child  like  Lenny.  They  must  have  been  employed  by  his 
father,  and  if  so,  they  must  have  been  engaged  some  days 
ago,  and  have  been  on  the  lookout  for  the  boy  ever 
since." 

"  Oh,  Anna,  Anna,  do  you  really  think  he  is  with  his 
father?  If  I  thought  so,  one-half  this  terrible  anxiety 
would  be  quieted.  Oh,  Anna,  do  you  truly  think  Lenny 
is  with  Alick  ?  "  cried  Brasilia,  clasping  her  hands. 

"I  have  little  doubt  that  Alexander  employed  these 
men  to  get  little  Lenny.  I  have  little  doubt  but  that,  for 
the  sake  of  gain,  they  will  faithfully  perform  their  part 


238  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

of  the  compact.  My  only  wonder  is  that  Alick  should 
have  employed  such  very  disreputable  instruments." 

«  Pina,  is  that  all  ?  Do  you  know  no  more  ?  "  anxiously 
inquired  Drusilla. 

"  It  is  all,  missus — every  bit.  I  have  told  you  not  only 
all  that  happened,  but  all  I  seed  and  heard  and  even 
thought." 

"  Now  then  for  action,"  said  the  young  mother,  rising 
with  a  new-born  resolution  and  ringing  the  bell. 

The  waiter  answered  it. 

"  Order  a  cab  for  me  immediately,  and  come  and  let  me 
know  when  it  is  at  the  door,"  she  said. 

And  when  the  man  went  away  to  do  he*"  bidding  she 
turned  to  Pina  and  said  : 

"  Stop  crying  and  do  as  I  direct  you.  Go  to  my  room 
and  bring  me  here  my  bonnet,  gloves  and  mantle." 

Pina,  still  sobbing,  went  to  obey. 

"  And  now,  Anna,  if  you  wish  to  accompany  me,  go  and 
get  ready  quickly.  I  have  something  to  do  in  the  mean- 
while." 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Drusilla  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond, wondering  to  see  the  agonized  young  mother  take 
the  direction  of  affairs  with  so  much  firmness. 

"  I  am  going  to  institute  a  search  for  little  Lenny.  I 
must  find  him  before  I  sleep.  Use  your  pleasure,  Anna 
dear,  in  going  with  me,  or  staying  at  home." 

"  I  shall  go  with  you  most  certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Ham- 
inond,  leaving  the  room  to  prepare  for  her  ride. 

Meanwhile  Drusilla  sat  down  to  her  writing  desk,  and 
wrote  off  rapidly  disjointed  paragraphs  on  several  sheets 
of  paper. 

Anna  returned  ready  for  her  drive,  and  found  Drusilla 
thus  occupied. 

«  What  in  the  world  are  you  doing,  my  dear  ?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Hammond. 

«  Preparing  slips  of  paper  that  may,  or  may  not,  be 
wanted ;  for  no  time  must  be  lost.  See,  here  is  a  telegram 
to  be  sent  to  uncle  at  Southampton,  if  necessary.  Here 
are  a  dozen  copies  of  an  advertisement,  descriptive  of  little 
Lenny's  person  and  dress,  and  of  the  circumstances  of  his 
disappearance,  and  the  reward  offered  for  his  restoration, 
to  be  put,  if  required,  into  to-morrow's  papers.  Still  I  hope 


THE  MISSING  BOY.  239 

that  none  of  these  things  need  be  done.  We  must  drive 
first  to  Mivart's  where  Alexander  stops,  or  did  stop,  and 
see  if  he  is  still  there,  and  if  he  has  the  child  in  his  posses- 
sion. If  we  find  that  Lenny  is  safe  with  his  father,  then 
it  will  be  all  right,  for  I  feel  sure  that  my  boy  will  be 
amused  and  happy  for  a  little  while,  and  then  he  will  want 
to  come  home  to  me,  and  Alick  will  never  be  so  cruel  as 
to  keep  him  from  his  mother.  But  if  we  do  not  find  him 
with  Alick,  then  we  must  sent  this  telegram  immediately 
to  Southampton  to  summon  uncle  back  to  town  ;  and  we 
must  have  this  advertisement  inserted  in  all  the  papers,  and 
posted  all  over  London ;  and  we  must  employ  the  whole 
detective  police  force,  or  as  many  of  it  as  we  can  procure^ 

to  prosecute  the  search It  is  time  the  cab  were  here. 

I  wish  it  would  come,"  said  Drusilla,  touching  the  bell. 

"Good  Heaven,  Drusilla!  how  you  do  astonish  me! 
Who  would  have  believed  that  you — a  young  and  delicate 
woman,  a  doting  and  anxious  mother — could  have  dis- 
played so  much  coolness  and  resolution  in  such  an  hour  of 
trial  and  suffering,"  exclaimed  Anna,  in  genuine  admira- 
tion. 

"  Ah,  Anna  !  if  experience  has  disciplined  me  in  any- 
thing, it  has  disciplined  me  in  self-control." 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  the  waiter  ap- 
peared  and  announced : 

"  Your  cab  waits,  madam." 

"  Come  then,"  said  Drusilla. 

And  followed  by  Anna  and  attended  by  Pina,  she  hur- 
ried down-stairs. 

They  entered  the  cab,  gave  the  order,  and  were  driven, 
rapidly  towards  Mivart's  hotel. 

Tke  drive  was  accomplished  in  almost  perfect  silence. 
Drusilla  sat  pale  and  still,  suff  ering  inexpressible  anguish, 
yet  controlling  herself  by  a  mighty  effort. 

Anna  was  occupied  by  her  own  anxious  thoughts.  Of 
course  she  knew  the  mission  to  Mivart's  in  search  of  Alick 
to  be  quite  vain,  and  worse  than  vain  since  it  involved  loss 
of  time  where  time  was  of  vital  importance ;  yet  she  dared 
not  enlighten  Drusilla  by  explaining  the  absence  of  Alex- 
ander, for  she  feared  by  doing  so  to  add  to  the  terrible 
anxiety  that  was  already  oppressing  the  young  wife  and. 
mother.  And,  ako,  Anna  suspected  that  Alexander  really 


240  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

was  concerned  in  the  abduction  of  little  Lenny ;  that  he 
had  hired  these  men  to  carry  him  off ;  and  had  most  prob- 
ably instructed  them  to  bring  him  to  Mivart's.  Therefore, 
although  she  knew  there  was  no  chance  of  finding  Alex- 
ander, she  cherished  some  hope  of  hearing  of  little  Lenny. 
The  men  who  abducted  him  might  have  carried  him  there, 
not  knowing  of  their  employer's  absence.  If  so,  little 
Lenny  might  be  recovered  before  the  day  was  over. 

Amid  all  her  grave  anxieties,  Anna  felt  some  little  curi- 
osity upon  one  point :  Drusilla  had  grown  so  sensitive 
and  timid  in  regard  to  her  beloved  but  truant  husband 
that  she  had  shrunk  even  from  the  casual  glance  of  his 
eye  in  public ;  and  now  she  was  going  to  Mivart's  in 
quest  of  him ;  after  all  that  had  passed,  she  was  volun- 
tarily seeking  him ;  true,  it  was  to  find  the  child ;  true, 
also,  she  could  not  see  her  husband ;  but — would  she  ask 
to  see  Alexander?  Could  she  endure  to  see  him?  What 
were  her  thoughts  and  feelings  on  that  subject?  Anna 
would  ask. 

"  Drusilla,"  she  said,  "  when  we  reach  Mivart's  shall 
you  send  in  your  card  to  Alexander  ?  " 

The  young  mother  started.  She  had  been  in  a  deep 
reverie  about  the  present  condition  of  her  child,  and  had 
not  heard  her  distinctly. 

Anna  repeated  her  question. 

"  Yes ;  I  shall  send  in  my  card,"  she  said. 

«  And  shall  you  see  him  ?  " 

"  That  shall  be  as  he  pleases.  Here  is  the  card  that  I 
have  prepared  to  send  in  to  him,"  she  continued,  taking 
from  her  gold  case  a  small  envelope  directed  to  Lord  Kill- 
icrichtoun,  and  drawing  from  it  her  card,  bearing  the 
name,  "  MRS.  ALEXANDER  LYOX,  "  and  the  pencilled 
lines,  "  Only  tell  me  little  Lenny  is  with  ymt  and  is  safe 
and  I  will  thank  and  bless  you.'"  "  I  shall  send  that  up. 
He  can  reply  to  it  by  a  pencilled  line,  or  a  verbal  mes- 
sage, or  he  can  come  down  and  see  me,  as  he  wills,"  said 
Drusilla, 

"  Drusa,  you  have  thought  of  everything ;  you  have 
prepared  for  every  emergency.  But  maternal  love  is  a 
great  sharpener  of  the  wits,  I  suppose,"  said  Anna. 

"  It  confers  a  sixth  sense  I  sometimes  think,  Anna," 
she  replied. 


THE  MISSING  BOY.  241 

When  they  reached  the  splendid  palace  in  the  West 
End  known  as  Mivart's  Hotel,  the  ladies  alighted,  and 
were  shown  into  an  elegant  reception  room,  where  they 
sat  down. 

Drusilla  then  called  a  hall  waiter,  gave  him  her  en- 
veloped card,  and  directed  him  to  take  it  at  once  to  Lord 
Killcrichtoun. 

"  Lord  Killcrichtoun  is  not  in  town,  madam, "  replied 
the  man. 

"  Not  in  town !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla,  disappointment 
and  terror  seizing  her  heart  and  blanching  her  face.  "  I 
thought  he  was  in  town!  I  saw  him  last  night  at  the 
American  Embassy.  Does  he  not  stop  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam  ;  my  lord  has  apartments  here,  but  he 
left  suddenly  this  morning  by  the  early  train  for  South- 
ampton. " 

"  For  Southampton !  "  echoed  Drusilla,  in  surprise  and 
dismay,  and  with  the  vague  fear  that  his  journey  thither 
was  in  some  fatal  way  the  occasion  of  General  Lyon's  and 
Dick's  sudden  departure  for  that  port. 

"  Yes,  madam,"  answered  the  imperturbable  waiter, 
my  lord  left  by  the  eight  o'clock  train,  taking  his  serv- 
ants with  him." 

"  When  will  he  return  ?  " 

"  Can't  possibly  say,  madam.  My  lord  set  no  day  for 
his  return.  But  if  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will  make  so  bold 
as  to  say  I  do  not  think  he  will  be  gone  long.  He  took 
nothing  but  a  small  portmanteau  with  him." 

Drusilla  reflected  a  moment  and  then  sealing  her  en 
velope,  and  handing  it  to  the  waiter  with  a  crown  piece 
she  said : 

"  Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  send  this  to  his  address  at 
Southampton  ?  " 

"  Why,  madam,  if  you  would  not  mind  risking  the  note, 
I  might  send  it  at  a  venture  to  the  Dolphin  Tavern  at 
Southampton,  where  it  might  chance  to  meet  my  lord,  as 
that  is  the  house  he  usually  has  his  letters  and  papers 
sent  to  when  down  there.  But  I  am  not  quite  certain 
now  about  his  address,  seeing  that  he  never  left  any 
orders  this  time  where  to  send  his  letters.  But  if  this  is 
not  very  valuable  you  might  run  the  risk  of  sending  it  to 
the  Dolphin." 
16 


242  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  I  thank  you,  send  it  immediately  to  the  Dolphin.  It 
is  not  of  itself  of  any  worth,  except  as  a  message  to  Lord 
Killcrichtoim.  If  it  does  not  find  him  it  might  as  well  be 
lost,"  said  Brasilia,  rising  to  go. 

But  Anna  had  also  something  to  say  to  the  waiter. 
Laying  her  hand  upon  Drusilla's  arm,  she  pressed  her 
back  into  her  seat,  and  then  turning  to  the  man,  she 
inquired  : 

"  Has  any  one  beside  ourselves  been  here  to  inquire  for 
Lord  Killcrichtoun  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam,  many  persons." 

«  Gentlemen  or  ladies  ?  " 

"  No  ladies,  madam.  Three  gentlemen  were  hi  to  see 
him  very  early  this  morning,  before  he  went  away." 

"  Ah,  but  I  mean  since  he  went  away." 

«  Oh,  yes,  madam,  quite  a  number." 

«  Again,  gentlemen  or  ladies  ?  " 

"  Neither  one  nor  the  other,  madam  ;  men." 

"  Men !    Ah  !  what  sort  of  men  ?  •" 

"  Common  roughs,  madam." 

"  Yes !  yes !  did  any  of  these  men  have  a  child  with 
them  ?  " 

"  Beg  pardon,  madam  ?  " 

•'  I  ask  you  if  either  of  these  rough-looking  men  had  a 
child  with  him  a  fair-haired,  blue-eyed  little  boy,  of 
about  two  years  old." 

"  No,  madam,  certainly  not." 

"  You  are  sure  ?  " 
•  "  Perfectly  sure,  madam." 

"  Well,  waiter,  attend  to  me.  "We  have  lost  a  child — 
and  have  some  reason  to  suppose  that  the  child  was 
brought  to  this  house  this  afternoon." 

"  It  has  not,  madam,  I  can  assure  you." 

"We  have  cause  to  believe,  then,  that  he  will  be 
brought  here—  Brasilia,  dear,  give  me  one  of  your  cards 
and  one  of  these  advertisements — Now  here,  waiter,  is  a 
description  of  the  child ;  and  here  is  our  address.  If 
such  a  child  should  be  brought  here,  I  desire  that  you 
will  detain  him,  and  those  who  bring  him,  and  send  for 
us.  Do  this  and  you  shall  be  richly  rewarded." 

"  I  will  do  it,  ma'am,  if  the  little  boy  should  be  brought 
here,"  said  the  man. 


THE  MISSING  BOY.  243 

And  then,  as  time  was  precious,  Brasilia  and  Anna 
arose  and  re-entered  their  cab. 

"Where  now,  Drusilla?"  inquired  Anna,  as  they 
seated  themselves. 

Instead  of  answering  her  cousin  immediately,  Drusilla 
beckoned  the  cabman  to  approach,  and  said : 

"  Drive  to  the  nearest  Telegraph  Office,  and  drive  fast. 

The  man  touched  his  hat,  shut  the  door,  mounted  his 
box  and  started  his  horses. 

Then  Drusilla  turned  to  her  cousin  and  explained: 

"  My  dear  Alick  may,  or  may  not  have  employed  those 
men  to  carry  off  little  Lenny.  If  he  has  done  so,  he  could 
not  have  expected  them  to  do  his  errand  to-day,  else  cer- 
tainly he  would  not  have  left  town  with  the  chance  of 
leaving  the  child  in  such  hands.  In  that  view  of  the  case 
I  left  my  card  with  the  penciled  lines  for  the  waiter  to 
send  to  him,  to  let  him  know  that  Lenny  is  in  the  hands 
of  his  agents,  supposing  that  they  are  his,  and  in  any  case 
to  let  him  know  the  child  is  missing." 

"  Oh,  Drusilla !  how  clearly  you  speak,  and  yet  how 
wretchedly  you  look!  Heaven  help  you,  poor,  young 
mother !  "  said  Mrs.  Hammond,  as  the  tears  rushed  to  her 
eyes. 

"  Oh,  Anna !  don't,  don't,  dear !  don't  pity  me !  don't 
say  anything  to  weaken  me  !  I  have  need  of  all  my 
strength ! "  cried  Drusilla,  through  her  white  and  quiver- 
ing lips. 

Anna,  with  heaving  bosom  and  overflowing  eyes,  turned 
her  head  away  from  her  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 

"  You  asked  me  just  now  where  we  were  going  next. 
You  heard  me  tell  the  cabman  to  drive  to  the  Telegraph 
Office.  I  must  send  off  two  telegrams  to  Southampton. 
I  cannot  wait  the  slow  motions  of  the  mails.  One  I  shall 
send  to  Alick,  directed  at  a  venture  to  the 4  Dolphin.*  The 
other  I  must  send  to  uncle ;  but  you  must  tell  me  where 
to  direct  that,  as  I  do  not  know  his  address,"  said  Drusilla. 

"  Dick  told  me,  in  any  sudden  emergency  that  might 
require  his  or  grandpa's  presence,  to  direct  to  them  at  the 
*  International,' "  replied  Anna. 

"  Very  well ;  we  will  telegraph  there." 

At  this  moment  the  cab  stopped  before  the  Telegraph 
Office. 


244  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

The  office  of  course  was  full  of  people,  and  Anna  and 
Drusilla  had  to  wait  their  turn. 

While  standing  at  the  counter,  Drusilla  borrowed  pen, 
ink  and  paper  from  one  of  the  clerks,  and  wrote  her  two 
messages.  The  first,  addressed  to  her  husband,  ran  thus : 

"  Little  Lenny  was  stolen  from  his  nurse,  by  two  men, 
this  afternoon,  in  the  Strand,  and  has  not  yet  been  recov- 
ered. DKUSILLA." 

She  submitted  this  to  the  examination  of  Anna,  saying : 

"  That  is  quite  enough  and  not  too  much  to  send.  If  he 
is  concerned  in  the  abduction,  he  will  hasten  at  once  to 
London  to  take  the  child  from  the  dangerous  hands  he  is 
in.  If  he  is  not  so,  still  I  think  he  will  hurry  hither  to 
help  in  the  search." 

"  You  reason  rightly,  dear,"  said  Anna. 

Drusilla  then  wrote  a  second  message,  to  be  sent  to 
General  Lyon.  It  was  couched  in  these  terms  : 

"  Little  Lenny  is  missing  since  this  afternoon.  Come 
to  London  by  the  first  train.  If  in  the  interim  you  have 
time  to  do  so,  seek  Alexander  at  the  Dolphin  and  tell  him" 

This  also  she  showed  to  Anna,  saying : 

"You  see  I  had  to  modify  my  message  since  learning 
that  Alexander  was  also  in  Southampton  ;  and  so  also  I 
had  to  destroy  the  slip  I  wrote  at  the  Morley  House  and 
prepare  this.  Xow  I  see  it  is  my  turn  to  be  served,"  she 
said,  taking  her  two  messages  and  carrying  them  to  the 
operator.  She  paid  for  them  and  then  inquired ! 

"  How  soon  will  these  go '? " 

This  instant,  mum,"  answered  the  bothered  operator, 
so  brusquely  that  Drusilla  did  not  venture  to  ask  another 
question,  but  merely  left  her  address  and  a  request  that 
if  an  answer  came  to  either  of  her  telegrams  it  might  be 
forwarded  immediately. 

"  Now,  my  dear,  what  next  ?  "  inquired  Anna,  as  they 
re-entered  their  carriage. 

"  To  the  '  Times '  office,  and  from  there  to  all  the  news- 
paper offices  in  turn.  It  may  not  be  really  necessary  to 
advertise ;  and  I  hope  that  it  is  not ;  but  still  I  must  lose 
no  time  and  miss  no  chance,"  said  Drusilla. 


THE  MISSING  BOY.  245 

«  And  having  given  her  order  to  the  cabman,  she  was 
driven  rapidly  to  the  head-quarters  of  the  great  thunderer. 

She  got  out  and  left  her  advertisement.  And  then  re- 
turning to  her  carriage,  ordered  it  to  the  office  of  the 
"  Post." 

And  so  in  succession  she  visited  the  offices  of  the 
"  Chronicle,"  "  Express,"  "  Dispatch,"  "  Leader,"  "  News," 
"  Bulletin,"  and,  in  short,  of  every  daily  paper  in  London. 

In  each  of  the  offices  she  also,  in  addition  to  giving  in 
her  advertisement  for  the  paper,  ordered  posters  of  the 
lost  child  to  be  printed,  and  engaged  bill-stickers  to  paste 
them  up. 

Next  she  drove  to  the  lodgings  of  the  Seymour  family, 
to  tell  the  colonel  of  the  loss  of  little  Lenny,  and  to  ask 
him  to  assist  her  in  the  search  for  the  child. 

But  here  she  was  informed  that  Colonel  Seymour  and 
the  ladies  were  gone  to  the  theater  ;  but  that  the  servants 
did  not  know  what  particular  theater. 

So  Drusilla  wrote  a  note  and  left  it  for  the  colonel. 

It  was  now  nine  o'clock,  and  quite  dark ;  and  having 
done  all  she  could  possibly  do  towards  the  recovery  of 
her  child,  she  ordered  the  cabman  to  drive  back  to  the 
hotel,  to  meet  the  horrors  of  her  lonely  night  and  forced 
inactipn. 

And,  oh  !  the  awful  sense  of  bereavement,  of  loneliness, 
of  vacancy,  in  entering  again  her  apartments,  in  which 
little  Lenny  was  no  longer  to  be  found  !  The  heart-rend- 
ing pang  of  terror  in  conjecturing  where  he  might  be ! 

While  she  had  been  busily,  actively  engaged  in  taking 
measures  for  his  recovery,  her  thoughts  had  been  some- 
what distracted  from  concentrating  themselves  upon  his 
present  condition. 

But  now,  when  she  had  done  all  that  she  could  possibly 
do  towards  finding  him,  now  that  she  had  come  home  to 
the  old  familiar  rooms,  made  desolate  by  his  loss,  and 
was  obliged  to  abide  in  inactivity  within  them,— now  that 
she  missed  him  everywhere  and  every  moment, — the  re- 
action from  courage  to  despair  was  so  sudden  and  over- 
whelming that  her  very  brain  reeled,  her  reason  for  the 
moment  seemed  imperiled.  With  a  half-stifled  cry,  she 
sank  upon  her  chair,  muttering  with  gasping  breath : 

"  It  is  not  possible  !  it  cannot  be  !    Lenny  gone,  and 


246  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

not  know  where  he  is  !  WAKE  ME  !  WAKE  ME  !  I  have 
the  nightmare ! " 

Anna  sprang  to  her  side,  and  put  her  arms  around  her 
saying : 

"  Drusilla,  Brasilia !  my  darling,  courageous  girl !  col- 
lect your  powers — control  yourself !  " 

"  Is  it  TRUE,  Anna  ?  Oh,  say  it  is  not — not  true  ! 
Lenny  is  NOT  LOST  !  "  she  exclaimed,  wildly  gazing  into 
Anna's  eyes. 

"  We  hope  that  he  is  safe  wherever  he  is,"  said  Anna 
wishingly. 

"  Wherever  he  is  !  Oh,  my  Heaven,  yes,  it  is  so !  He 
is  lost,  and  we  do  not  know  where  to  find  him  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, distractedly  starting  up  and  walking  the  floor, 
and  wringing  and  twisting  her  hands.  "  Where  is  he  ? 
where  is  he  to-night  ?  Oh,  in  all  this  great  crowded  city, 
where  is  my  little  child — my  poor,  little  two-year  old 
child,  who  cannot  help  himself?  He  is  frightened  to 
death  wherever  he  is — I  know  it !  He  is  calling  for  me, 
he  is  crying  for  me,  at  this  very  moment !  Oh,  my  Lenny, 
my  Lenny !  I  would  go  to  you  through  fire  if  I  knew  where 
to  find  you  in  this  great  Babylon  !  I  would,  my  little  one, 
I  would  !  But  I  do  not  know  where  in  this  wilderness  to 
look  for  you  to-night,  and  you  must  cry  for  me  in  vain, 
my  little  child,  you  must !  Oh,  what  a  horrible  night !  I 
cannot,  I  cannot  live  through  it !  I  cannot  breathe  in  this 
house  !  I  must  go  out  and  look  for  him  again  !  I  must ! 
I  must ! " 

Her  head  was  thrown  back,  her  arms  raised,  and  her 
hands  clasped  upon  her  throbbing  temples,  and  she  reeled 
as  she  walked  to  and  fro  in  the  room. 

Anna,  who  had  kept  near  her,  seeing  her  about  to  fall, 
caught  her  and  made  her  sit  down,  while  she  said : 

"Drusa,  dearest,  be  reasonable  !  be  yourself ! " 

"  I  must  go  out  and  look  for  my  little  child !  I  must, 
Anna !  I  must !  I  cannot  live  through  this  horrible  night 
if  I  stay  in  this  house  ! "  she  cried. 

"  Drusa,  consider !  you  can  do  no  good  by  going  out  to- 
night, but  much  harm.  You  could  not  find  little  Lenny, 
but  you  would  lose  yourself.  You  have  already  done  all 
that  you  possibly  could  do  for  his  recovery.  Having  done 
eo,  leave  the  result  to  Heaven." 


THE  MISSING  BOY.  247 

"  Oh,  if  we  could  only  know  where  he  is ! " 

"  We  shall  find  out  to-morrow,  no  doubt.  The  adver- 
tisements will  be  read;  the  posters  will  be  seen;  the 
large  reward  offered  will  stimulate  inquiry  ;  the  detective 
police  will  be  on  the  alert ;  and,  in,  all  human  probability, 
before  this  time  to-morrow  little  Lenny  will  be  in  your 
arms  !  and  grandpa,  and  Dick,  and  who  knows  but  Alick, 
too,  will  all  be  here  rejoicing  with  you  in  your  child's 
restoration  !  Drusilla,  this  cloud  may  have  a  silver  lining ; 
this  transient  trial  may  bring  about  a  great  happiness," 
said  Anna,  speaking  with  perhaps  more  cheerful  confi- 
dence than  she  really  felt. 

«  Heaven  grant  it !  Oh,  Heaven  in  its  mercy  grant  it ! 
But  till  then!  But  to-night!  Oh,  how  shall  I  live 
through  this  horrible  night !  How  will  my  little  child 
endure  it?  my  tender  little  child,  who  was  never  away 
from  me  before  !  And,  oh,  in  what  wretchedness  he  may 
be !  hi  what  terror !  hi  what  danger !  crying  for  his 
mother  to  come  and  take  him,  and  she  knows  not  where 
to  find  him ! " 

"Drusilla !  Drusilla !  use  your  own  excellent  judgment. 
Is  it  likely  at  all  that  the  child  should  be  hi  danger  to- 
night, or  even  in  terror  ?  Children  live  and  thrive  in  the 
lowest  haunts  of  London.  The  men  who  stole  him  for 
his  father  will  of  course  take  the  best  possible  care  of  him 
in  order  to  deliver  him  in  the  best  condition  and  to  get 
their  money ;  so  he  will  be  in  no  danger ;  and  as  for  his 
being  in  terror,  little  Lenny  is  a  '  game  boy,'  afraid  of 
nothing  on  earth,  neither  of  *  thunder  nor  horses,'  as  he 
once  told  me,  much  less  of  men ;  and  as  to  crying  for  you, 
he  is  probably  by  this  time  fast  asleep,  and  well  watched, 
for  his  abductors  know  that  he  is  a  treasure  that  will 
bring  money  to  their  ragged  pockets." 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  think  so  I — oh,  if  I  could  think  so.  Oh, 
if  I  could  only  know  where  he  is — know  where  I  might 
lay  my  hand  on  him  to-night,  or  to-morrow,  I  might  be 
at  something  like  peace ;  but  oh,  Anna,  it  is  distracting, 
it  is  maddening  to  feel  that  in  all  this  huge,  crowded  city 
I  do  not  know  where  he  is ! " 

"  Drusilla,"  said  Anna,  laying  her  hand  upon  the  young 
mother's  shoulder,  looking  hi  her  eyes,  speaking  sweetly 
and  solemnly,  and  appealing  to  the  deepest  feelings  of  the 


248  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

young  Christian's  soul.  "Brasilia,  if  we  do  not  know 
where  little  Lenny  is  to-night,  his  Heavenly  Father  does. 
He  sees  him,  watches  over  him,  protects  him.  What 
would  your  knowledge  of  his  whereabouts,  or  your  power 
to  protect  him,  be  to  that  of  his  Heavenly  Father,  whose 
eyes  are  over  all  his  works,  who  is  as  all-merciful  as  he  is 
all-mighty.  Take  this  faith  home  to  your  heart  and  let 
it  comfort  you." 

"  Oh,  Anna,  that  does  comfort  me.  To  think  that  the 
Lord  knows  where  he  is,  though  I  do  not ;  the  Lord  can 
take  care  of  him,  though  I  cannot.  Oh,  I  thought  no  one 
but  the  thieves  could  know  where  little  Lenny  is  to- 
night ;  but  behold  the  Lord  knows !  And  I  feared  that 
I  could  do  nothing  more  for  him  to-night ;  but  behold  I 
can  pray  to  the  Lord  for  him.  I  will  spend  the  night  in 
praying  for  him ! "  said  the  bereaved  mother,  growing 
somewhat  more  composed. 

But  there  was  no  going  to  bed  in  the  ladies'  apartments 
that  night. 

As  they  had  not  broken  their  fast  since  morning,  Anna 
ordered  tea  to  be  served  in  the  drawing-room.  Consumed 
by  the  feverish  thirst  brought  on  by  mental  distress,  they 
drank  some  tea,  but  would  eat  nothing. 

When  the  service  was  removed,  both  went  to  Anna's 
room,  for  Drusilla  did  not  dare  to  trust  herself  within 
her  own  desolated  chamber,  and  they  changed  their  car- 
riage dresses  for  loose  wrappers,  and  they  spent  the  night 
in  vigil  and  hi  prayer. 


CHAPTER  XXIH. 

ALEXANDER'S  JEALOUSY. 

Ten  thousand  fears 

Invented  wild,  ten  thousand  frantic  views 
Of  horrid  rivals,  hanging  on  the  charms, 
For  which  he  melts  in  fondness,  eat  him  up 
With  fervent  anguish  and  consuming  rage. — THOMPSON. 

WE  must  return  to  the  hour  when  Alexander  threw 
himself  into  his  cab  and  dashed  back  to  his  hotel.  He 
did  not  go  to  bed,  you  may  be  sure.  He  had  a  country- 
man and  an  acquaintance  in  the  same  house,  who  was  no 
other  than  our  young  friend,  Francis  Tredegar. 


ALEXANDER'S  JEALOUSY.          249 

Francis  occupied  the  singular  position  of  being  on 
friendly  terms  with  both  Alick  and  Drusilla,  without 
knowing  or  even  suspecting  the  relation  that  these  two 
bore  to  each  other  ;  and,  moreover,  as  he  never  happened 
to  mention  the  name  of  Lord  Killcrichtoun  to  Mrs.  Lyon, 
or  that  of  Mrs.  Lyon  to  Lord  Killcrichtoun,  neither  one 
of  these  was  aware  of  his  acquaintance  with  the  other. 

Mr.  Tredegar  had  been  at  the  Ambassadress'  ball,  and 
had  returned  to  his  hotel  about  the  same  hour  that  Alex- 
ander got  back  there. 

So  Alexander,  instead  of  going  directly  to  his  own 
apartments,  went  first  to  Mr.  Tredegar's  room  and  rapped 

"  Who's  there  ?  "  cried  a  voice  from  within. 

"  It  is  I.     Have  you  retired  yet  ?  " 

"  No.     Come  in." 

Alick  entered  and  found  his  friend,  divested  of  his  coat 
and  vest  and  preparing  for  bed. 

"  Put  on  your  clothes  again,  Francis,  you  must  do 
something  for  me  before  you  sleep,"  said  Alexander,  walk- 
ing towards  the  dressing-table  at  which  Mr.  Tredegar 
stood,  with  his  back  to  his  visitor. 

"  Good  gracious,  Alick,  my  dear  fellow,  what  on  earth 
can  you  want  me  to  do  for  you  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  after  having  made  a  night  of  it  at  the  ball  ?  " 
laughed  Francis  Tredegar,  turning  around  in  much  sur- 
prise ;  but  his  surprise  became  consternation  as  he  gazed 
on  the  haggard  features  and  ghastly  complexion  of  his 
visitor.  "  Merciful  Heaven,  Alick ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  what 
is  the  matter  ?  What  on  earth  has  happened  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  insulted,  outraged,  beyond  all  endurance. 
And  I  want  you  to  be  the  bearer  of  a  challenge  from 
me  ! "  grimly  replied  Alexander. 

"  A  challenge,  Alick !  In  the  name  of  reason,  are  you 
mad  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  were  !  Perhaps  I  am !  But  in  a  few  words, 
Tredegar,  if  I  convince  you  that  I  have  been  wronged  to 
a  degree  unendurable  by  an  honorable  man,  will  you  then 
become  the  bearer  of  my  challenge  to  the  base  caitiff  who 
has  so  foully  abused  me  ?  " 

"  Why  certainly  I  will,  Alick.  In  any  just  cause  I  will 
stand  by  you  to  the  very  death !  But  is  it  really  as  bad 
as  you  think  ?  " 


250  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

« « As  bad  as  I  think  ? '     Listen." 

"  Sit  down,  Alick,  and  tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Trede- 
gar,  rolling  towards  his  visitor  a  comfortable  arm-chair. 

Alick  dropped  into  the  offered  seat. 

Tredegar  perched  himself  on  the  corner  of  the  dressing- 
table. 

"  I  will  put  a  case  and  let  you  judge  for  yourself. 
Suppose  that  you  were  devoted  to  a  beautiful,  amiable  and 
accomplished  woman,  who  was  at  least  equally  devoted  to 
yourself " 

**  Heavens !  If  I  could  suppose  that  I  should  be  in  para- 
dise!" 

"  No  levity,  if  you  please,  Francis." 

"  Beg  pardon.  I  will  be  as  grave  as  a  rejected  lover,  or 
— as  an  accepted  one ! " 

"  Suppose  this  mutual  devotion  had  grown  up  with  you 
from  infancy  to  maturity ;  and  that  it  was  consecrated  by 
the  most  sacred  bonds  and  pledges." 

"  Meaning,  poetically  speaking,  '  bonds  of  matrimony ' 
and  '  pledges  of  affection ' — otherwise,  practically  prosing, 
wife  and  children." 

"  No,  not  exactly  ;  but,  to  continue :  Suppose  this  mu- 
tual devotion  to  have  lived  on  in  love,  and  trust,  and  joy, 
and  peace  until  certain  untoward  circumstances — your 
own  madness,  to  wit : — disturbed  the  harmony  of  your  re- 
lations ;  yet  still  in  all  the  discord  this  mutual  love  lived 
on ;  lived  on,  only  deepened  and  strengthened  by  separa- 
tion and  suffering, — lived  on  until  just  at  the  time  you  were 
beginning  to  dream  of  reconciliation  and  reunion  with  your 
first  love — your  only  love,  your  life's  love — a  base  villain 
steps  in  between  you,  and,  favored  by  fortune  and  by 
position,  dazzles  the  mind  and  steals  the  heart  of  your  be- 
loved ! " 

"  And  is  that  suppository  case  your  own,  Alick  ?  " 

•«  Yes,  it  is.    What  would  you  do  if  it  were  yours  ?  " 

"  I'd  let  him  have  her !  I'd  give  'em  my  blessing,  and 
let  'em  go !  But  then  I'm  not  you,  Alick ;  if  you  feel  in- 
clined to  call  the  fellow  out  and  giving  him  a  chance  to 
settle  your  prior  claims  by  blowing  out  your  heated 
brains,  why  that's  your  affair  ! " 

«  And  you  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

«*  I  did  not  say  that,  Alick ;  quite  the  contrary  !    You 


ALEXANDER'S  JEALOUSY.         251 

have  been  wronged,  and  I  will  see  you  righted  if  I  can — 
and  righted  in  your  own  way  too  !  " 

"  Then  you  will  take  my  challenge  ?  " 

"  With  all  my  heart.     To  whom  am  I  to  take  it?" 

"To  Prince  Ernest. of  Hohenlinden.  May  the  demon 
fly  away  with  him  !  " 

"  To  Prince  Ernest  of  Hohenlinden,      Whew  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  He's  a  dead  shot — the  deadliest  shot  on  this  side  the 
ocean ! " 

"  That  is  not  saying  much  for  him  !  I'm  a  second  or 
third  rate  marksman  on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean.  So 
that  makes  us  about  equal.  Will  you  come  to  my  Doom 
now,  Tredegar?  I  wish  to  write  my  despatch  and  send 
it  off  at  once.  No  time  should  be  lost  in  these  affairs." 

"  What !  are  you  in  such  hot  haste  to  meet  your  foe  ? 
Are  your  feet  so  '  swift  to  shed  blood  ? '  Will  you  then 
rush,  as  our  grand  Halleck  has  it — 

'  To  death  as  to  a  festival  ? ' 

Alick,  Alick  !     I  am  sorry  for  you !  " 

"  Spare  your  compassion  and  come  to  my  room,"  said 
Alexander,  rising  and  leading  the  way  through  the  halls 
and  corridors  that  led  to  his  own  sumptuous  suite  of 
apartments. 

Arrived  there,  Alexander  made  Francis  Tredegar  sit 
down,  while  he  placed  himself  at  his  writing-desk  and 
penned  his  challenge  to  the  prince. 

"  I  shall  not  have  far  to  seek,  at  any  rate,"  said  Mr. 
Tredegar,  as  he  received  the  note,  "for  Prince  Ernest 
has  apartments  on  this  very  floor." 

"  I  knew  of  course  that  he  was  stopping  here,"  said 
Alexander. 

"  And  now  then,  if  it  is  a  discreet  question,  who  is  the 
fair  lady  for  whose  sake  two  such  gallant  knights  are  to 
do  battle  ?  "  inquired  Tredegar,  poising  the  paper  on  his 
finger. 

"  But  it  is  not  a  fair  question,  Tredegar.  The  name  of 
the  lady  should  never  be  mentioned  in  such  matters.  I 
cannot  utter  it  even  to  you,  dear  Francis,"  said  Alick 
gravely. 


252  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  All  right.  But  see  here !  It  is  never  that  beautiful 
young  widow,  Mrs.  Lyon,  who  made  such  a  sensation  as 
the  belle  of  the  ball  last  night  ?  " 

"  Bosh ! "  exclaimed  Alexander,  growing  deadly  white, 
and  jerking  himself  around  in  apparent  impatience,  but 
with  a  real  desire  to  conceal  his  emotion — "  Bosh,  I  say  ! 
It  is  no  widow  lor  whose  sake  I  wish  to  meet  him.  There 
is  not  a  widow  alive  in  whom  I  feel  the  slightest  interest ! " 

"  Well,  then,  I  think  you  are  all  at  sea  about  the  prince. 
He  thinks  of  no  other  woman  in  the  world  but  the  beauti- 
ful widow.  His  devotion  to  her  was  the  general  topic  of 
conversation  last  night." 

"  And  I  tell  you  that  you  are  all '  at  sea,'  as  you  call  it, 
my  dear  Francis.  Come!  you  have  taken  my  word  for  the 
justice  of  my  cause,  now  take  my  challenge  to  my  foe." 

"  Well,  that  is  soon  done,  unless  he  has  gone  to  bed." 

"  That  he  has  not  I  will  venture  to  predict.  He  is 
waiting  my  challenge." 

"  As  eager  for  the  fray  as  yourself,  eh  ?  " 

"  Quite." 

"  But  see  here,  Alick !  I  promised  to  stand  by  you  in 
this  cause,  and  I  will  do  it ;  but  though  I  bear  your 
challenge,  I  shall  try  to  settle  this  affair  amicably." 

"  '  Amicably  ? '    It  can  never " 

"  Oh,  I  know  it  would  be  quite  useless  to  argue  with  you, 
but  Prince  Ernest  may  be  more  amenable  to  reason,  more 
open  to  conviction." 

"  Will  you  go  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  I  am  going,"  said  Tredegar,  leaving  the 
room. 

As  soon  as  he  was  alone  Alexander  looked  at  the  clock. 
It  wanted  a  quarter  to  five. 

In  passing  before  his  dressing-table,  his  eye  caught  the 
reflection  of  his  ghastly  face  in  the  glass. 

"  Good  heavens !  "  he  said,  "  I  look  like  a  ghost  already. 
I  shall  not  look  more  pallid  after  that  fellow  has  killed  me 
— if  he  does  kill  me — than  I  do  now ;  and  that  chance  of 
death  reminds  me  that  I  must  settle  up  my  worldly  affairs 
as  quickly  as  I  can." 

So  saying,  he  sat  down  to  his  writing  table,  took  a  sheet 
of  foolscap  and  a  coarse  pen,  and  began  to  write.  He 
wrote  a  few  lines  in  an  "  engrossing "  hand,  and  then 


ALEXANDER'S  JEALOUSY.  253 

stopped,  with  a  troubled  brow,  to  reflect.  Thus  writing 
and  reflecting,  he  completed  the  work  he  was  on  in  about 
half  an  hour. 

Then  he  took  note  paper  and  another  pen  and  wrote  a 
letter,  which  he  placed  in  an  envelope,  sealed  and  directed. 

Finally  he  sat  back  hi  his  chair,  and  fell  into  deep 
thought. 

When  Mr.  Tredegar  had  been  gone  an  hour,  he  returned 
and  re-entered  the  room. 

"  Well  ?  "  exclaimed  Alick,  looking  up. 

"  Well,  it  is  settled,"  said  Tredegar,  dropping  into  a 
chair  near  his  friend.  "  I  found  Prince  Ernest  even  more 
resolutely  bent  upon  the  meeting  than  you  are.  He  con- 
siders himself  the  insulted  party.  When  I  requested  to 
see  him,  I  was  admitted  at  once  to  his  chamber,  where  I 
found  him  tearing  i^p  and  down  the  floor  in  his  sacred  shirt. 
If  my  errand  had  not  been  so  grave,  I  could  have  laughed. 
He  made  no  sort  of  apology  for  his  extreme  deshabille,  but 
seemed  to  know  my  errand.  I  handed  him  your  challenge. 
He  then  began  to  rave  about  the  insult  that  had  been 
offered  him,  and  the  'grawnd  satees-fac-shee-on,'  as  he 
called  it,  that  he  would  take.  He  introduced  me  to  his 
friend,  Major  Ernest  Zollenhoffar,  or  some  such  barbaric 
name,  and  he  told  me  to  settle  the  preliminaries  of  the 
meeting  with  him.  Then  he  dismissed  us  to  an  adjoining 
loom." 

«  And  you  settled  them  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  subject,  of  course,  to  the  approval  of  the  princi- 
pals. Prince  Ernest  approves.  It  is  now  for  you  to  pass 
judgment." 

"It  is  not  likely  that  I  shall  object.  Let  me  hear 
them." 

Francis  Tredegar  took  from  his  breast  pocket  a  folded 
paper,  opened  it,  and  partly  read  from  it  and  partly  said : 

"  As  it  is  not  possible  that  this  meeting  should  take 
place  on  English  soil,  it  is  arranged  that  the  parties  go  by 
the  next  train  to  Southampton,  take  the  steamer  to  Jersey 
and  proceed  to  the  open  country  between  St.  Aubins  and 
St.  Heleir.  The  exact  spot  of  the  duel  to  be  settled  after- 
ward. The  weapons  are  to  be  pistols.  The  distance  ten 
paces.  The  signals— One— Two— Three.  At  the  last 
word— FIRE  ! " 


254  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  That  will  do.  We  must  go  by  the  eight  o'clock  train, 
which  is  the  next.  Let  me  see  ; — it  is  now  a  quarter  past 
five.  We  must  leave  this  house  by  seven,  in  order  to 
make  sure  of  our  train.  Thus  we  have  but  an  hour  and 
three-quarters  for  preparation,"  said  Alexander. 

"  But  I  have  not  read  you  all  the  articles  yet.  There 
is  something  about  surgeons  and  attendants " 

"Let  all  that  go.  It  is  of  minor  importance,"  said 
Alexander,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  cord  of  the  bell  that 
communicated  with  his  valet's  room. 

He  rang  loudly  and  repeatedly.  And  presently  the  man 
made  his  appearance,  half  asleep  and  half  dressed. 

u  Simms,"  said  his  master,  "  pack  my  portmanteau  with 
a  change  of  clothes  and  small  dressing-case.  We  go  to 
Southampton  by  the  eight  o'clock  train." 

The  man  stared  a  little  at  this  unexpected  order,  but, 
being  a  well  trained  servant,  suppressed  his  surprise  and 
hastened  to  obey  his  orders. 

Alexander  examined  his  pistol-case,  and,  seeing  that  all 
was  right,  proceeded  to  prepare  himself  for  his  sudden 
journey. 

Francis  Tredegar  repaired  to  his  own  chamber  for  the 
same  purpose. 

Half  an  hour  passed  in  this  manner,  and  then  Mr.  Tred- 
egar returned,  traveling-bag  in  hand. 

He  found  Alexander  again  at  his  writing  desk. 

"  Come  here,  Francis,  my  dear  boy  ;  I  want  you  to  wit- 
ness the  signing  of  my  will,"  said  Alexander,  looking 
around. 

"  You  will  require  two  witnesses,"  observed  Francis 
Tredegar,  gravely,  as  he  approached  the  table. 

"  Yes,  I  know !     Here,  Simms." 

The  valet  came  up. 

In  the  presence  of  his  friend  and  his  servant,  Alexander 
signed  his  will.  And  then  Francis  Tredegar  and  John 
Simms  signed  as  witnesses. 

"  Now,  Tredegar,  I  have  named  you  and  another  one, 
executors  of  this  will.  But  I  wish  you  to  take  charge  of 
it  in  case  anything  should  happen  to  me." 

"  Oh,  bosh  ! "  said  Tredegar,  gaily,  yet  with  a  tremulous 
tone,— "these  affairs  seldom  end  fatally." 


ALEXANDER'S  JEALOUSY.  255 

But  he  took  the  will  and  put  it  carefully  hi  his  breast 
pocket. 

"It  is  nearly  seven  o'clock  now.  I  wonder  if  we  could 
get  some  coffee.  Go  down,  Simras,  and  see,  and  have  it 
brought  to  this  room,"  said  Alexander. 

The  servant  went  on  this  errand. 

The  master  turned  again  to  his  friend. 

"Here,  Francis,"  he  said,  gravely,  as  he  handed  the 
letter  he  had  written  ;  "  I  wish  you,  in  case  of  my  death, 
to  deliver  this  letter  to  its  address." 

"  Oil,  nonsense.  There  is  going  to  be  nothing  so  sol- 
emn. You  may  be  wounded  slightly,  and  as  you  are  a 
good  marksman  you  may  wound  Prince  Ernest  seriously. 
That  will  be  all,"  said  Mr.  Tredegar.  But  his  voice 
trembled  as  he  spoke,  and  his  hand  shook  as  he  took 
charge  of  the  letter. 

"  Why,  good  Heaven,  Alick !  this  is  directed  to  Mrs. 
Alexander  Lyon,  Morley  House,  Trafalgar  Square,"  said 
Tredegar,  in  unbounded  astonishment,  as  he  read  the 
address. 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  she  calls  herself,"  said  Alexander, 
grimly. 

"  And  so  it  is  the  lovely  widow,  after  all,  who  is  the 
cause  of  this  hostile  meeting  ? " 

"I  told  you  that  no  widow  had  anything  to  do  with 
it.  She  is  not  a  widow,  Tredegar." 

"  Xot  a  widow !  and  just  now  you  hinted  that  she  was 
not  Mrs.  Lyon.  Who  is  she,  then,  Alick  ?  " 

"  She  is  Lady  Killcrichtoun— she  is  my  wife,  Tredegar." 

"  Good  Heavens,  Alick  ! — Here  ! — Here  is  my  hand !  I 
go  with  you  now  heart  and  soul !  I  am  not  bloodthirsty, 
and  I  want  no  man's  life  ;  but  I  do  hope  you  will  cripple 
that  fellow  for  the  rest  of  his  days  !  "  fervently  exclaimed 
Francis  Tredegar,  clasping  his  hand  into  Alexander's 
palm. 

« I  did  not  wish — I  did  not  mean  to  mention  her  dear 
name  in  this  connection  ;  circumstances  and  necessity 
have  forced  it  from  me.  Treat  it  as  a  sacred  confidence, 
Tredegar." 

«  By  my  soul  I  will ! " 

"  And  listen  to  this  :  the  fault,  the  folly,  the  madness 
belong  to  me  and  to  that  man.  She  is  blameless  ! — yes, 


256  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

blameless  as  any  holy  angel.  I  swear  it  by  all  my  hopes 
of  Heaven ! " 

The  entrance  of  the  waiter  with  a  tray  put  an  end  to 
the  conversation  for  the  time  being. 

The  friends  took  each  a  cup  of  coffee,  a  muffin,  and  a 
chop,  and  then  went  down-stairs  and  entered  the  cab  that 
was  already  packed  for  their  journey. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    DUEL. 

Blood !  he  will  have  blood  !— SHAKESPEARE. 

As  Alexander  and  his  party  entered  the  fly  that  was 
to  take  them  to  the  station,  they  observed  the  crested 
coach  and  liveried  servants  of  Prince  Ernest  coming 
around  the  next  corner. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Alexander.  "  We  shall  be  at  the  station 
before  them.  I  am  glad  of  it.  Our  advance  will  enable 
us  to  take  a  whole  carriage  and  avoid  the  possibility  of 
going  down  in  their  company." 

"  But  it  is  not  to  be  presumed  but  that  Prince  Ernest 
will  do  the  same  thing — will  engage  a  whole  carriage  for 
himself  and  suite,"  answered  Tredegar. 

"If  he  can.  But  whole  carriages  are  not  always  to  be 
had,  at  the  last  moment  before  starting  There  may 
chance  to  be  one,  and  that  I  will  secure." 

They  were  bowling  rapidly  along  the  streets  as  Alexan- 
der spoke. 

In  due  time  they  reached  the  crowded  station. 

"  It  is  a  notable  blessing  that  we  are  not  encumbered 
with  baggage,"  said  Mr.  Tredegar,  as  they  pressed  their 
way  to  the  first-class  ticket  window. 

"  Yes ;  what  little  we  have  can  be  taken  in  the  carriage 
with  us,"  replied  Alexander. 

High  over  the  heads  of  the  crowd  that  was  before  them, 
Francis  Tredegar  held  his  ten-pound  note,  and  high  also 
over  their  voices  he  spoke  : 

"  We  want  a  whole  first-class  carriage,  if  you  please." 

The  note  was  taken. 


THE  DUEL.  257 

«  How  far  ?  "  inquired  the  agent. 

«  Through,"  answered  Francis. 

The  tickets  were  handed  him. 

Francis  clutched  them  and  said  : 

"  Come  !  we  must  hurry  all  the  same  in  order  to  secure 
ourselves." 

As  they  pressed  outward  through  the  crowd,  they  saw  a 
servant  in  the  livery  of  Prince  Ernest  pressing  inward 
towards  the  ticket  office.  And  before  they  had  quite 
worked  their  way  through  they  heard  the  man  call  for  a 
whole  first-class  carriage. 

"  You  see  he  is  after  the  same  thing.  Let  us  hurry  to 
the  train.  First  come  first  served,  you  know.  And  there 
may  be  but  one,"  remarked  Alick. 

They  pressed  forward  to  the  railway  platform ;  found  a 
guard  and  showed  him  their  tickets  and — a  crown  piece  to 
hurry  his  movements. 

Guard  touched  his  hat,  opened  a  door  and  popped  our 
party  into  a  roomy  carriage  with  eight  comfortable  seats. 

"  The  only  wholly  vacant  one  on  the  train,  sir,  I  can 
assure  you,"  said  the  guard,  pocketing  his  crown  piece, 
touching  his  hat  and  closing  the  door. 

"  Ah  !  "  whispered  Alexander,  rubbing  his  hands,  "  I 
told  you  so."  It  was  such  a  satisfaction  for  him  to  think 
be  had  been  beforehand  with  the  unlucky  Austrian,  who 
would  therefore  be  compelled  to  distribute  himself  and  his 
suite  promiscuously  through  the  carriages. 

He  had  no  idea  that  another  carriage  would  be  attached 
to  the  train  especially  to  accommodate  Prince  Ernest  and 
his  suite.  Yet  such  was  the  case. 

The  train  started  It  was  the  express,  and  it  went  on 
at  a  tremendous  rate.  Houses,  streets,  suburbs,  fields, 
woods,  towns  flew  behind  it. 

How  did  our  travelers  pass  the  two  or  three  hours  of 
their  journey  ?  They  were  going  down  by  the  express,  for 
the  avowed  purpose  of  engaging  in  a  mortal  combat.  It 
might  be  supposed  that  their  time  would  be  spent  in  sorely 
troubled  thought.  Will  it  be  believed  that  it  was  passed 
in— sleep  ? 

Yet  so  it  was.  Human  nature  must  sleep.  The  con- 
demned criminal  sleeps  the  night  before  his  execution ;  the 
victim  on  the  rack  has  been  known  to  sleep  in  the  intervals 


$58  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

between  each  turn  of  the  screw ;  the  agonized  mother  drops 
asleep  hi  the  interims  of  her  travail. 

Alexander  was  going  to  kill  or  to  be  killed ;  Francis 
Tredegar  was  going  down  to  help  him  meet  either 
fate.  Yet  these  by  no  means  hardened  shiners,  really 
slept. 

Worn  out  by  want  of  rest,  and  affected  by  the  swift 
motion  of  the  train,  they  slept  soundly — waking  up  only 
once  in  a  while,  when  the  train  would  stop  at  some  unusu- 
ally noisy  way  station. 

Doubtless  on  these  wakings  both  would  realize  with  a 
pang  of  recollection  the  horror  of  the  business  upon  which 
they  were  traveling.  But  if  so  neither  gave  a  sign.  If 
either  spoke  it  would  be  to  make  some  commonplace 
remark,  as : 

"  Ah-yah !  I  do  believe  I  have  been  asleep !  This 
dancing  until  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  does  use  a  fellow 
Up  confoundedly,"  from  Francis  Tredegar  ;  or : 

"  Quite  a  pretty  little  village  this  where  we  are  stopping 
now,"  from  Alexander. 

But  not  one  word  of  the  grave  matter  that  occupied  both 
minds. 

And  as  soon  as  the  train  started  they  would  cease  talk- 
ing, and  soon  after,  fall  asleep  again,  and  sleep  until  the 
next  stoppage  at  the  next  noisy  station. 

Thus  the  hours  passed  swiftly. 

At  length  they  were  waked  up  by  a  very  unusual 
bustle,  and  found  themselves  at  a  very  unusually  large 
station. 

"  This  is  a  considerable  town.  I  wonder  what  it  is," 
said  Francis  Tredegar,  yawning  and  looking  out  of  the 
window. 

"  It  is  Southampton  and  we  are  at  our  journey's  end," 
answered  Alexander. 

"  Indeed !    We  have  run  down  very  soon." 

« Not  so  very  soon  either.  We  slept  all  the  way  and 
know  little  of  the  flight  of  time.  It  wants  but  twenty 
minutes  to  eleven  o'clock,  and  we  have  but  just  tune  to 
catch  the  boat.  Where  is  the  guard  ?  I  wish  he  would 
come  and  open  the  door  and  let  us  out.  It  is  a  confounded 
nuisance,  this  locking  the  carriage- doors  on  the  outside, 
keeping  one  hi  a  sort  of  flying  prison,"  grumbled  Alexan- 


THE  DUEL.  259 

der,  looking  from  the  window  up  and.  down  the  platform 
for  the  guard. 

"  It  is  for  one's  safety,"  said  Francis  Tredegar. 

"  Oil,  bosh !  as  if  I  hadn't  any  right  to  risk  my  own 
life  !  It  is  not  so  precious  to  any  one,  I  take  it." 

"  Well,  but  granting  that,  other  lives  may  be  precious 
to  other  people,  and  this  rule  is  made  for  the  safety  of 
all." 

As  Francis  Tredegar  spoke  the  guard  came  up  and 
unlocked  the  door,  and  released  the  prisoners. 

"  A  quarter  to  eleven !  Come,  Francis,  hurry — we  have 
not  a  moment  to  lose  if  we  would  catch  the  boat,"  ex- 
claimed Alexander,  flying  down  the  platform  and  beckon- 
ing a  cab  from  the  stand. 

Francis  Tredegar  and  Alick's  valet  hurried  after  him. 

"  To  the  St.  Aubins  steamboat,  as  fast  as  you  can  go," 
was  the  order  Alexander  gave  to  the  cabman,  who  stood 
hat  in  hand  holding  the  door  open. 

The  man  closed  the  door  upon  the  impatient  party> 
mounted  his  seat,  and  started  his  horses. 

They  were  driven  rapidly  down  to  the  wharf,  where 
the  St.  Aubins  steamer  lay  getting  up  her  steam.  They 
got  out,  paid  the  cab,  and  passed  on  into  the  boat. 

"JFive  minutes  to  eleven — we  have  just  saved  ourselves. 
But  that  dastard  has  not  made  his  appearance  yet !  Is  it 
possible  that  he  will  back  out  at  the  last  moment  ?  If  he 
does,  I  will  post  him  for  a  coward  all  over  Europe ! n 
muttered  Alexander,  frowning. 

"  There  he  comes  now ! "  exclaimed  Francis,  as  a  car- 
riage rattled  rapidly  down  towards  the  boat. 

And  there  he  was,  sure  enough.  It  was  not  likely  that 
the  excitable  Austrian  was  going  to  lag  behind  on  such 
an  adventure  as  this. 

Prince  Ernest  and  his  suite  stepped  upon  deck  just  one 
minute  and  a  half  before  the  gang-plank  was  withdrawn, 
the  signal-gun  fired,  and  the  steamer  started. 

In  passing  on  the  deck,  the  adversaries  met  face  to  face. 
Each  raised  his  hat  with  a  stiff  bow  and  passed  on — Prince 
Ernest  and  his  suite  to  the  forward  end  of  the  boat,  Alex- 
ander and  his  party  to  the  aft.  And  they  took  good  care 
not  to  meet  again  during  the  voyage. 

They  had  a  fair  day  for  their  foul  deed.    The  sky  wag 


260  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

unusually  clear,  the  air  calm,  and  the  sea  smooth.  The 
steamer  ran  at  the  rate  of  ten  knots  an  hour. 

Alexander  and  his  party  sat  at  the  stern  looking  out  at 
sea,  and  reading  or  pretending  to  read  the  morning  papers 
served  around  by  a  newsboy  who  had  the  run  of  the 
boat. 

The  boat  was  certainly  not  crowded.  In  fact  there 
very  few  passengers  on  board.  And  among  them  Alexan- 
der and  his  party  saw  not  a  face  they  knew  except  those 
of  Prince  Ernest  and  his  second. 

At  two  o'clock  lunch  was  served  in  the  saloon. 

"  Will  you  come  down  ?  we  have  had  but  a  slight 
breakfast,"  pleaded  Tredegar. 

"  I  cannot  sit  at  the  same  table  with  a  man  I  am  about 
to  fight  and  perhaps  to  kill,"  muttered  Alexander. 

"  Nor  would  he  sit  at  the  same  table  with  you,  it  is  to 
be  presumed.  But  there  are  probably  several  tables  in 
the  saloon.  There  goes  Prince  Ernest!  his  fire-eating 
propensities  do  not  take  away  his  appetite  for  milder  food 
it  seems.  Let  him  select  his  table  and  then  let  us  go 
down  and  take  some  other,"  suggested  Tredegar. 

Alexander  assented.  And  in  a  few  minutes  they 
descended  to  the  saloon  and  took  seats  at  a  table  as  far 
as  possible  from  that  occupied  by  Prince  Ernest. 

The  luncheon  was  a  liberal  one,  as  good  as  a  dinner — 
with  soup,  fish,  fowl,  roast  and  boiled  joints,  pastry, 
cheese,  and  fruits.  The  wines  were  good  and  cheap, 
various  and  abundant. 

Again,  will  it  be  credited,  Alexander,  firmly  believing 
that  within  a  few  hours  he  must  kill  or  be  killed,  still  ate 
and  drank  freely  at  this  lunch.  And  Tredegar  followed 
his  example.  Perhaps  they  did  it  that  the  sated  stomach 
might  soothe  the  brain.  At  any  rate  when  they  rose 
from  the  table,  they  went  down  to  the  lower  deck  to  a 
spot  set  apart  and  sacred  to  smoking,  and  there  they 
smoked  out  several  cigars.  After  that  they  went  to  the 
cabin,  turned  into  their  respective  berths,  and  went  to 
sleep  and  slept  until  the  ringing  of  the  dinner-bell 
aroused  them. 

They  arranged  their  toilettes  and  went  into  the  saloon. 
And  again,  they  sought  seats  as  far  as  possible  from  the 
table  occupied  by  Prince  Ernest. 


THE  DUEL.  261 

It  might  have  been  the  invigorating  effects  of  the  sea- 
air  upon  our  party ;  but  they  certainly  sat  down  and 
made  as  good  a  dinner  at  seven  o'clock  as  if  they  had 
had  no  luncheon  at  two.  After  sitting  an  hour  over 
their  wine,  they  finished  with  each  a  cup  of  coffee,  and 
then  went  up  on  deck. 

The  sun  had  set,  but  the  western  horizon  and  the  sea 
were  still  suffused  with  his  lingering  crimson  lights.  A 
few  stars  were  coining  out. 

Alexander  and  Francis  Tredegar  sat  down  in  the  after 
part  of  the  boat,  and  entered  into  conversation,  talking  of 
anything  rather  than  of  the  approaching  duel. 

"  What  time  shall  we  reach  St.  Aubins  do  you 
think  ?  "  inquired  Alick. 

"  I  have  never  been  on  this  route  before,  so  I  cannot 
tell  you  of  my  own  knowledge.  From  what  I  have  been 
able  to  pick  up  from  observations  dropped  by  those  that 
are  more  familiar  with  the  voyage,  I  judge  we  shall  be  in 
port  somewhere  about  midnight." 

"  So  late  in  the  night  ?  that  will  be  very  inconvenient." 

"  Yes  ;  but  unless  we  could  have  arrived  before  sunset, 
which  was  clearly  impossible,  we  could  have  done  noth- 
ing more  to-day.  We  must  stay  at  the  best  hotel  to-. 
night,  and  get  our  little  affair  quietly  over  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

"  The  sooner  the  better,"  muttered  Alexander. 

The  night  was  beautiful.  The  waters  of  the  Channel, 
often  so  troubled,  were  calm  as  those  of  a  placid  lake. 
The  heavens  were  of  that  deep  transparent  purple-black 
that  only  summer  skies  over  summer  seas  ever  show. 
Brighter  than  diamonds  the  stars  shone  down,  creating 
the  darkly-brilliant  light  so  much  more  beautiful  than 
moonbeams.  The  night  was  holy.  How  could  thoughts 
of  sin,  feelings  of  revenge,  purposes  of  destruction  live  in 
the  soul  of  any  man  gazing  out  upon  the  divine  beauty  of 
the  sky  and  sea? 

Ah,  but  Alexander  was  morally  and  spiritually  ill  and 
insane.  He  could  scarcely  be  said  to  belong  to  the  natural 
world.  His  spirit  seemed  already  steeped  to  the  lips  in 
that  sea  of  blood  seen  by  the  poet-prophet  of  Italy  in  nig 
vision  of  Hell. 

How  shall  he  be  cured  and  saved  ? 


262  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

And  yet  he  was  not  unconscious,  although  he  was  un- 
impressed by  the  beauty  of  the  night. 

The  deck  was  almost  solitary ;  the  passengers  had  gone 
below  and  turned  in,  many  of  them  suffering  more  or  less 
from  the  effects  of  sea-sickness ;  for  the  boat  rolled  a 
little,  as  small  steamboats  will  roll  even  on  the  smoothest 
seas.  No  one  was  left  on  deck  except  the  man  at  the 
wheel,  the  officers  of  the  watch,  and  Alexander  Lyon  and 
Francis  Tredegar. 

Francis  sauntered  up  and  down  the  starboard  gangway, 
smoking  his  cigar,  which,  at  this  hour  and  under  these 
circumstances,  was  admissible,  and  meditating  most  prob- 
ably on  the  "coming  events "  that  now  " cast  their 
shadows  before." 

Francis  had  no  such  deep  stake  in  the  event  as  had 
Alexander,  for  his  life  was  not  to  be  risked,  yet  not  the 
less  was  his  spirit  darkened  within  him.  He,  too,  saw 
the  star-spangled  firmament  above  and  the  smooth  sea 
below,  reflecting  it  as  a  mirror ;  but  he  could  not  enjoy 
the  vision  as  once  he  might  have.  The  crime,  the  folly 
of  which  he  had  been  tempted  to  become  a  participant 
was  not  yet  consummated,  but  yet  he  felt  that  some 
portion  of  his  own  soul  was  already  dead,  or  paralyzed 
-so  that  he  could  not  feel  the  heavenly  influence  of  the 
scene  around  him.  How  should  he  ? 

Alexander  stood  leaning  over  the  bulwarks  of  the  boat, 
•gazing  moodily  out  to  sea.  I  said  he  was  not  unconscious 
of  the  divine  beauty  of  the  night,  although  he  was  un- 
touched by  it.  He  saw  the  glory  of  the  firmament,  but 
as  something  afar  off,  which  could  not  reach  him,  and 
which  he  could  not  reach ;  but  he  remembered  also  that 
in  happier  times  his  spirit  was  touched,  drawn  out, 
elevated,  by  this  heavenly  influence.  Why  could  it  not 
affect  him  now-?  Why  was  the  divine  loveliness  beam- 
ing down  upon  this  natural  world,  so  silent,  cold  and  still, 
for  him  ?  Why  was  the  living  spirit  of  the  night  but  a 
-dead  body  for  him  ? 

Alas  !  he  knew  and  felt  why.  He  was  a  man  who  had 
mined  his  natural  life,  and  all  but  ruined  his  immortal 
•spirit.  He  had  sped  too  fast  and  too  far  on  the  down- 
ward road  to  perdition  to  stop  himself  now.  He  was 
like  one  who,  running  rapidly  down  hill,  has  gained  such 


THE  DUEL.  263 

an  impetus  that  he  cannot  stop,  though  he  knows  that 
he  rushes  to  death  and  hell.  Alexander  knew  and  felt 
that  dueling  was  unjustifiable  under  any  circumstances — 
that  it  was  a  tremendous  crime — a  doubly  damnable 
crime,  since  it  involved  at  once  murder  and  suicide  of 
body  and  of  soul — perhaps  the  very  worst  of  crimes ;  and 
yet  he  was  bent  upon  committing  it,  even  though,  in  do- 
ing so,  he  should  lose  both  body  and  soul. 

The  night  seemed  endless,  and  the  sea  boundless,  to 
this  sick  spirit;  yet,  just  as  the  watch  sounded  eight 
bells  and  midnight,  the  boat  entered  the  picturesque 
harbor  of  St.  Aubins,  and  soon  after  landed  at  the  wharf. 

There  was  something  more  than  picturesque,  there  was 
something  mysterious  and  even  spiritual  in  the  aspect  of 
this  singular  little  maritime  town,  as  seen  for  the  first 
time  in  the  starlight  midnight,  overshadowed  by  its  back- 
ground of  Noirmont  Heights,  and  reflected  with  its  few 
gleaming  lights  in  the  still  waters  of  its  quiet  little  har- 
bor— St.  Aubins !  it  is  a  place  for  a  tired  spirit  to  stop 
and  rest  in. 

The  hour  was  not  yet  so  late  but  that  some  of  the- 
hotels  were  open,  especially  as  they  were  expecting  the 
arrival  of  the  boat. 

Our  passengers  landed.  Some  few  carriages  were 
waiting,  probably  by  appointment.  Prince  Ernest  and 
his  suite  entered  one  of  these  and  drove  off. 

Alexander,  accompanied  by  Francis  Tredegar,  and 
followed  by  his  servant  bearing  the  carpet  bags,  walked 
dreamily  up  into  the  town,  and  took  the  direction  pointed 
out  to  him  towards  the  St.  Aubins'  hotel. 

In  fact,  all  his  life  now  seemed  something  unreal, 
visionary,  delirious  as  a  fevered  dream. 

Arrived  at  the  hotel,  they  first  saw  the  empty  carriage 
of  Prince  Ernest  turning  away  from  the  door,  and  they 
knew  as  a  certainty  what  they  had  before  taken  for 
granted — that  their  adversaries  were  stopping  a,t  the 
same  house,  which  was  far  the  best  in  the  place. 

They  took  a  suite  of  rooms,  including  a  private  parlor 
and  two  bed-chambers. 

"  We  will  have  a  bit  of  supper  up  here  and  then  to  work,n 
said  Francis  Tredegar,  touching  the  bell.  Francis  was  now 
the  only  active  agent  in  the  enterprise. 


264  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE, 

The  waiter  answered  his  summons. 

"  Supper  immediately.  Anything  in  the  world  that  you 
have  handiest,  with  a  bottle  of  good  sherry,"  was  Mr. 
Tredegar's  orders. 

The  waiter  disappeared  and  reappeared  several  times 
with  great  rapidity,  in  course  of  which  evolution  he 
spread  the  table  with  a  white  cloth,  and  with  crockery 
ware,  cutlery  and  glass,  and  loaded  it  with  cold  ham,  roast 
fowl,  and  a  salad,  together  with  the  bottle  of  wine  that 
had  been  bespoken. 

Alexander  and  Francis  sat  down  and  ate  and  drank  as 
other  travelers  might  who  had  no  murder  on  their  mind. 
They  spoke  no  word  of  the  impending  duel. 

When  supper  was  over  and  the  cloth  removed,  Francis 
Tredegar  turned  to  his  principal  and  said : 

"  Now  you  will  wish  to  feel  well  and  strong  to-morrow 
morning.  You  have  lost  a  great  deal  of  rest  lately,  and 
will  require  all  the  sleep  that  you  can  get  to  restore  you. 
So  you  had  better  go  to  bed  at  once,  and  lie  there  till  I 
call  you.  I  will  be  sure  to  call  you  two  hours  before  the 
time  that  shall  be  fixed  for  the  meeting." 

"  And  you,  Francis  ?    Will  you  not  take  some  rest  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  not  so  necessary  for  me.  I  must  meet  Zoilen- 
hoff ar  by  appointment  to  settle  the  last — the  final  arrange- 
ments— such  as  could  not  possibly  be  settled  before  our 
arrival  here." 

"Well,  you  will  call  me  in  time  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

Alexander  retired  to  his  chamber,  and  Francis  Trede- 
gar went  out  to  keep  his  appointment  on  what  might  be 
called  neutral  ground — in  a  room,  namely,  far  removed 
from  the  quarters  of  the  principal  belligerents,  and  which 
the  seconds  had  engaged  for  the  purpose  of  settling  the 
final  preliminaries  to  the  hostile  meeting. 

The  night  watch  of  the  hotel  could  have  told,  and  after- 
wards did  tell,  how  these  two  men  had  shut  themselves 
up  together  in  a  private  room,  where  they  remained  from 
one  o'clock,  till  half  past  two,  when  they  came  out  together 
locked  the  door,  took  the  key  with  them,  left  the  house, 
and  bent  their  steps  towards  the  gloomy  heights  of  Noir- 
mont  that  lay  behind  the  town;  and  how  about  four 


THE  DUEL.  265 

o'clock  they  returned,  and  separated,  each  going  to  his  own 
apartment. 

Certainly  at  about  a  quarter  past  four  Mr.  Tredegar  en- 
tered Alexander's  chamber,  where  he  found  his  principal 
tossing  about  on  the  bed  in  a  feverish  and  impatient 
manner. 

"  Have  you  slept  ?  "  inquired  Francis. 

«  Slept  ?    How  could  I  ?    Is  it  time  to  rise  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  it,"  exclaimed  Alexander,  jumping 
out  of  bed. 

"  You  have  rather  more  than  two  hours  before  you,  if  you 
have  any  last  preparations  to  make,"  said  Francis,  gravely. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  shave,  wash  and  dress." 

"  But — "  said  Francis,  sadly. 

"  I  tell  you  I  have  no  other  preparations  to  make.  Hav- 
ing settled  my  worldly  affairs,  I  have  no  other  prepara- 
tions to  make.  What  should  I  have  ?  "  emphatically  ex- 
claimed Alexander. 

What,  indeed  ?  How  could  the  duelist  prepare  for  prob- 
able death  ?  The  Christian  soldier  going  into  battle,  or 
upon  a  forlorn  hope,  in  a  righteous  cause  can  invoke  the 
blessing  of  God  on  his  arms,  and  can  commit  his  soul,  for 
life  or  death,  into  His  holy  keeping.  Yes,  even  the  con- 
demned criminal,  however  deeply  steeped  in  guilt,  can 
kneel  and  pray  for  mercy  and  forgiveness,  for  acceptance 
and  admission  into  Heaven.  These  can  prepare  to  meet 
their  God. 

But  how  can  the  determined  duelist  prepare  for  death  ? 
Can  he  pray  for  pardon  for  past  sins  when  he  is  about  to 
commit  the  last,  the  greatest,  the  deadliest  sin  of  his  life  ? 
No,  he  goes  to  his  fatal  work  grimly  defying  man  and 
God,  death  and  hell. 

"  You  have  fixed  upon  the  ground  ?  "  inquired  Alexan- 
der, as  he  brushed  his  hair,  calmly  and  carefully,  as  for 
an  evening  party,  for  he  had  suddenly  recovered  all  his 
self-possession. 

"  Yes ;  it  is  a  small  secluded  spot  at  the  foot  of  Noir- 
mont  Heights,  to  which  I  shall  conduct  you." 

"  And  the  time  ?  " 

"  Six.     The  carriage  is  ordered  at  half-past  five." 

"  Very  well.     There  are  but  a  few  moments  left  j  so 


266  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

much  the  better,"  said  Alexander,  as  he  finished  his  toilet 

When  they  went  into  their  private  parlor,  they  found 
hot  coffee  waiting  them,  thanks  to  the  careful  forethought 
of  Francis  Tredegar. 

When  they  had  finished  their  coffee  the  carriage  was 
announced,  and  they  arose. 

"  I  have  laid  the  train  so  that  the  coachman,  and  even 
the  servants,  think  we  are  a  party  of  geologists  going  to 
the  mountain  to  search  for  geological  specimens.  They 
will  take  our  pistol-case  for  a  box  of  tools  and  think  all 
right,"  explained  Francis  Tredegar,  as  they  descended  the 
stairs. 

"  Then,  to  complete  the  ruse,  we  must  leave  the  cab  at 
some  short  distance  from  the  dueling  ground." 

"  Of  course.  And  still  more  to  guard  against  suspicion 
and  interruption,  Prince  Ernest  and  his  attendants  start 
as  if  for  a  journey,  make  a  slight  detour,  and  approach  the 
place  of  meeting  from  another  direction,"  answered 
Francis. 

The  morning  was  fresh  and  bright.  The  sun  was,  per- 
haps, an  hour  high  when  Alexander  Lyon  and  Francis 
Tredegar  entered  their  carriage.  Simms,  the  valet, 
mounted  the  box  and  seated  himself  beside  the  coachman. 
And  ^n  this  manner  they  were  driven  out  towards  Noir- 
mont  Heights. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  Francis 
Tredegar  ordered  the  carriage  to  draw  up. 

"Give  me  that  box  of  tools,  Simms.  We  shall  find 
some  valuable  specimens  of  sienites  on  the  other  side  of 
the  mountain,"  said  Francis  Tredegar,  in  a  rather  loud 
voice  intended  to  be  heard  by  the  coachman,  as  the  party 
:alighted  from  the  carriage. 

"  Wait  for  us  here.  We  may  be  gone  some  hours,  but 
•don't  leave  the  spot,"  he  added,  as  he  led  the  way,  followed 
T>y  Alexander  and  his  servant,  around  a  projecting  rock, 
to  a  retired  spot,  shut  off  from  observation  by  surround- 
ing precipices. 

As  they  entered  the  place  at  one  end,  Prince  Ernest 
and  his  party  were  seen  to  come  in  at  the  other. 

Each  adversary,  with  his  attendants,  paused. 

The  prince  was  attended  by  his  second,  his  surgeon 
and  his  servant. 


THE  DUEL.  267 

Alexander  had  only  his  friend  and  his  valet. 

Major  Zollenhoffar  and  Mr.  Tredegar  drew  out  from 
their  respective  groups,  and  met  in  the  center  of  the 
ground.  There,  for  the  last  time,  they  conferred  upon 
the  possibility  of  an  amicable  settlement  of  the  difficulty. 
But  the  impracticability  of  reconciling  the  adversaries 
consisted  in  this — that  each  of  the  adversaries  deemed 
himself  the  injured,  insulted,  outraged  party,  who  was 
entitled  to  an  humble  apology  from  the  other,  or  in  want 
of  that  the  "  satisfaction  of  a  gentleman  " — which  usually 
means  an  ounce  of  lead  in  his  body  or  fellow-creature's 
blood  upon  his  soul.  Each  was  willing  to  receive  an 
apology,  instead  of  a  bullet ;  but  neither  would  hear  of 
making  the  slightest  concession. 

When  the  proposition  was  made  to  Alexander,  he  sim- 
ply turned  away  his  pallid  face  in  cold  and  silent  scorn. 

When  it  was  made  to  Prince  Ernest,  the  excitable  Aus- 
trian jumped  three  feet  from  the  ground  and  swore  that 
he  would  have  "  one  grawnd  sat-ees-fac-shee-on." 

The  quarrel  having  proved  irreconcilable,  the  last  prep- 
arations were  made  for  the  duel. 

The  ground  was  stepped  off,  and  the  foes  were  placed 
by  their  respective  seconds  at  ten  paces  from  each  other — 
standing  due  north  and  south,  with  the  advantage  of  the 
light  equally  divided  between  them ;  the  insulted  sun 
being  just  above  the  mountains  due  east,  and  shining 
down  full  upon  the  dueling  ground.  Major  Zollenhoffar 
had  the  choice  of  the  four  pair  of  pistols  provided.  Fran- 
cis Tredegar  was  to  give  the  signals. 

Having  placed  and  armed  their  principals,  and  taken 
position  on  opposite  sides  of  the  line  of  fire,  and  about 
midway  between  them,  and  all  being  ready,  Francis  Tre- 
degar looked  from  one  to  the  other.  He  saw  that  Alex- 
ander Lyon  was  pale  as  death,  but  still  as  marble,  steady 
as  a  statue  ;  and  that  Prince  Ernest  was  fiery  red,  but  hi 
other  respects  appeared  as  calm  as  his  adversary. 

But  Francis  Tredegar  himself  grew  very  pale  as  the 
fatal  moment  approached.  His  voice  sounded  hollow  and 
unnatural,  as  he  began : 

"  Gentlemen,  are  you  ready  !  " 

A  dread  pause  and  a  silent  assent,  or  an  assent  taken 
for  granted. 


268  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

«  ONE  ! " 

And  at  the  signal  the  foes  raised  their  pistols. 

"  Two !  " 

They  took  deliberate  aim. 

«  THREE." 

They  kept  them  so. 

"FIRE!" 

They  discharged  their  pistols  and  Alexander  Lyon  fell. 

The  impulsive  Austrian  threw  down  his  weapon  and, 
regardless  of  etiquette,  ran  over  to  raise  his  fallen  foe. 

Alexander  was  still  alive  when  they  raised  him.  There 
was  a  convulsive  shuddering  of  the  form — a  nervous  quiv- 
ering of  the  face — a  gasp — "  Drusilla  !  "  and  all  was  still 
as  death. 

Prince  Ernest  had  his  grand  satisfaction. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  GRAND  SATISFACTION. 

Naught's  had,  all's  spent 
When  our  desires  are  gained  without  content — SHAKESPEARE. 

THE  grand  satisfaction  was  received ;  but  it  did  not 
prove  so  highly  satisfactory  after  all.  Grand  satisfactions 
seldom  do. 

Prince  Ernest  raised  his  fallen  foe  in  his  arms,  sup- 
ported him  upon  his  bosom  and  gazed  on  his  upturned, 
pallid  face  in  pity  and  distress. 

"  Quick !  you  come  hither,  monsieur !  Quick !  you 
come  hither,  Doctor  Dietz !  "  he  called  hastily  to  his  own 
surgeon,  who  with  the  two  seconds  and  the  valet  were 
hurrying  to  the  spot. 

"  Good  Heaven !  he  is  killed !  "  cried  Francis  Tredegar, 
throwing  himself  down  hi  a  kneeling  posture  beside  his 
friend  and  relieving  Prince  Ernest  of  the  weight  of  the 
body. 

Doctor  Dietz  dropped  on  his  knee  on  the  other  side  and 
began  hastily  to  unloosen  the  clothes  and  examine  the 
condition  of  the  wounded  man. 

Major  Zollenhoffar  bent  sadly  over  the  group. 


THE  GRAND  SATISFACTION.  269 

Simms,  the  valet,  stood  gaping  and  staring  in  speechless 
consternation. 

The  impulsive  Austrian  skipped  around  the  circle,  act- 
ing in  his  distress  more  like  an  excitable  dancing  master 
than  an  accomplished  Prince. 

Each  face  was  as  pale  as  the  bloodless  face  below  them ; 
for  these  were  not  the  times  of  war,  and  the  men  were  not 
inured  to  sudden  and  violent  death. 

At  length  the  surgeon  looked  up  from  his  examination. 

"  Is  he  quite  dead  ?  Is  there  not  the  slightest  hope  ?  " 
anxiously  inquired  Francis  Tredegar. 

"  He  is  not  dead,"  said  Doctor  Dietz.  Then  turning  to 
Major  Zollenhoffar,  he  requested — "  Monsieur,  oblige  me ; 
send  someone  to  the  carriage  for  my  case  of  instruments." 

« I  will  go  myself,"  answered  the  major,  hurrying  off. 

"  Monsieur,  you  do  the  favor ;  send  your  servant  for 
the  water,"  said  Doctor  Dietz,  turning  again  to  Francis. 

"  Hasten,  Simms.  There  is  a  hut  around  the  projection 
of  that  rock.  Go  there  and  procure  some  vessel  and  fill 
it  at  the  nearest  spring  and  hurry  back  with  it  as  fast  as 
possible,"  ordered  Francis,  speaking  eagerly  while  he 
still  supported  the  almost  lifeless  form  of  his  friend. 

Simms  ran  off  at  the  height  of  his  speed  to  get  the 
water.  And  all  this  while  Prince  Ernest  skipped  about 
giving  vent  to  his  lamentations  and  declaiming  in  his  ex- 
citement, without  his  usually  careful  regard  to  the  con- 
struction of  the  English  language. 

"  My  Heaven  !  I  shall  wish  to  kill  him  not !  I  know 
not  what  he  quarrel  with  me  because !  what  he  insult 
me !  what  ho  defy  me !  what  he  shoot  me  because — I 
know  not — I — !  A  fair  woman  shall  give  me  her  bouquet 
to  hold,  to  keep,  to  cherish !  Why  not  ?  I  am  the  slave 
of  the  fair  woman  !  I  take  her  bouquet !  It  is  sweet,  it 
is  fresh,  it  is  precious  like  herself !  I  press  it  to  my  lips  ! 
I  put  it  to  my  heart !  Why  not  ?  What  wrong  I  do  that 
he  shall  charge  me  ?  shall  accuse  me  ?  shall  shoot  me ! " 
he  exclaimed,  jumping  about,  gesticulating,  and  making 
such  havoc  of  English  auxiliary  verbs  as  even  the  best- 
read  foreigners  may  sometimes  do  when  speaking  rapidly 
and  excitedly. 

"  Lay  your  friend  down  flat  upon  his  back — I  wish  to 
probe  his  wound,"  said  Doctor  Dietz  to  Francis  Tredegar, 


270  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

as  he  saw  Major  Zollenhoffar  running  towards  them,  with 
his  case  of  instruments. 

Francis  Tredegar  slowly  eased  the  body  down  upon  the 
level  ground,  and  then  gently  drew  his  hand  from  under 
the  head. 

As  he  did  so,  he  uttered  a  cry  of  horror. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  demanded  the  doctor. 

Francis  held  up  the  palm  of  his  hand,  which  was  crim- 
son with  clotted  blood. 

«  Where  did  that  come  from  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

"  From  the  back  of  his  head.  Oh,  he  is  quite  dead,  or 
must  be  soon !  He  is  shot  through  the  brain !  "  exclaimed 
Francis  in  great  distress. 

u  Impossible  ! "  cried  the  doctor. 

**  No,  no,  no ! "  exclaimed  Prince  Ernest,  vehemently. 

"  I  shall  not  shoot  him  through  the  brain !  I  shall  not 
aim  at  his  head  at  all !  I  shall  aim  at  his  right  arm. 
I  shall  not  wish  to  kill  him,  only  to  punish  him !  I  shall 
aim  at  his  right  arm,  but  I  shall  shoot  him  through  the 
right  side !  It  shall  be  a  chance,  an  accident,  a  misfor- 
tune. I  meant  it  not — not  I !  " 

While  the  Austrian  was  skipping  and  exclaiming,  the 
surgeon  was  examining  the  back  of  Alexander's  head. 
The  hair  was  matted  with  blood  from  a  deep  wound  there. 

"  You  see  it  is  as  I  say — the  ball  has  passed  quite 
through  his  head,  and  come  out  here,"  said  Francis 
Tredegar. 

« Impossible !  The  ball  entered  the  right  side  of  the 
chest,  passed  through  the  right  lobe  of  the  lungs,  and  is 
lodged  here  below  the  right  shoulder-blade.  See  for 
yourself ! "  said  the  surgeon,  laying  back  Alexander's 
shirt-bosom,  so  as  to  show  the  small,  dark,  inverted  hole 
at  which  the  bullet  had  entered. 

«  But  this  wound  in  the  back  of  his  head — ?  " 

"  Was  made  by  his  falling  and  striking  some  hard, 
sharp  substance — a  fragment  of  rock,  probably." 

While  the  surgeon  spoke  he  was  not  idle.  He  took 
his  case  of  instruments  from  one  assistant  and  the  water 
from  the  other. 

He  carefully  cut  away  the  blood-clotted  hair,  and 
•washed  and  plastered  the  wound  in  the  head  ;  and  then 
he  cut  out  the  bullet,  which  lay  little  more  than  skin- 


THE  GRAND  SATISFACTION.  271 

deep  under  the  shoulder  blade.  He  dressed  the  wounds 
as  well  as  circumstances  would  permit,  and  then  he  said : 

"  We  had  better  take  your  friend  back  to  his  apart- 
ments at  the  hotel.  I  will  continue  to  give  him  my  best 
care  there." 

Francis  Tredegar  assented. 

Simms  was  once  more  despatched  to  the  hut  to  borrow 
its  only  door  and  when  he  returned  he  not  only  brought 
the  door,  but  was  followed  by  the  kind-hearted  master 
of  the  hut,  bringing  a  load  of  blankets.  With  these 
materials  a  rude  Utter  was  constructed,  and  upon  it 
Alexander's  form  was  laid.  And  thus  he  was  borne  upon 
the  shoulders  of  Simms  the  valet,  Knox  the  hutter,  and 
two  laboring  men  who  came  and  offered  their  services. 

Prince  Ernest  returned  to  the  hotel  in  his  carriage. 
Major  Zollenhoffar  and  Francis  Tredegar  walked  behind 
the  bearers  of  the  wounded  man. 

Alexander's  cab  went  back  empty. 

"  I  say,"  said  the  hotel  servants  to  the  cabman  as  soon 
as  they  saw  him,  «  you  took  a  party  of  gents  out  to  the 
mountains  to  look  for  minerals,  didn't  you  ?  " 

M  Yes,"  growled  the  Jehu. 

"  Well,  and  they  found  'em — at  least  one  of  'em  did, — 
a  beautiful  round  specimen  of  lead  mineral ;  and  he  liked 
it  so  well  he  put  it  into  his  bosom.  But  I'm  told  it  didn't 
agree  with  him  !  " 

Alexander  was  carefully  carried  to  his  chamber  and 
laid  upon  his  bed. 

Around  him  stood  Doctor  Dietz,  Mr.  Tredegar,  John 
Simms,  and  one  or  two  of  the  servants  of  the  hotel. 

In  this  more  favorable  position,  his  wounds  were  more 
carefully  examined  and  skilfully  dressed.  Both  wounds 
were  found  to  be  very  serious. 

He  was  relieved  of  his  blood-stained  garments  and  put 
into  a  clean  suit  of  under  clothes,  and  again  laid  back 
upon  his  pillow. 

During  this  process  he  had  given  but  few  signs  of  con- 
sciousness— only  groaning  slightly  when  being  moved, 
as  if  motion  distressed  his  lacerated  chest. 

And  then  the  room  was  darkened. 

u  Now  let  him  rest  quietly,"  said  Doctor  Dietz. 


272  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"But  will  you  not  give  him  something ? "  inquired 
Francis  Tredegar. 

"  No." 

«  No  opiate  ?  " 

«  Certainly  not." 

«  No  anodyne  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  Let  him  rest  for  the  present,  only  renew 
as  they  become  heated,  the  cold  water  compresses  on  his 
wounds." 

Francis  Tredegar  constituted  himself  head  nurse,  and 
seated  himself  beside  his  patient. 

Major  Zollenhoffar  entered  the  room. 

"  Prince  Ernest  leaves  by  the  ten  o'clock  boat  for  South- 
ampton ;  but  wishes  to  know  the  state  of  the  gentleman 
before  he  goes,"  whispered  the  Major  to  Mr.  Tredegar. 

"  I  was  about  to  go  and  report  to  the  Prince,"  said 
Doctor  Dietz. 

"  His  Highness  requests  that  you  will  not  leave  your 
charge  so  long,  as  he  may  require  your  assistance.  His 
Highness  will  dispense  with  your  services  about  his  own 
person  for  the  present.  But  he  requests  that  you  will 
keep  him  informed  of  the  progress  of  your  patient,"  said 
Major  Zollenhoffar. 

The  surgeon  bowed  low  hi  acquiescence  with  the 
prince's  behests. 

"  I  hope  this  arrangement  may  meet  your  approbation, 
sir,"  said  the  Major,  courteously  turning  towards  Mr, 
Tredegar. 

u  It  excites  my  gratitude,  sir,"  replied  Francis  Tredegar. 
"  It  excites  my  warmest  gratitude.  We  could  not  proba- 
bly find  such  surgical  skill  for  ourselves." 

With  another  bow  and  an  earnestly  expressed  hope 
that  the  wounded  man  might  yet  do  well,  the  Major  took 
leave,  and  returned  to  his  master,  leaving  the  patient  hi 
charge  of  Doctor  Dietz,  Francis  Tredegar  and  Simms. 

Within  an  hour  Prince  Ernest  and  all  his  suite,  except 
his  surgeon,  embarked  for  England. 

And  we  must  return  to  General  Lyon  and  Dick  Ham- 
mond. 


THE  PURSUIT.  273 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  PURSUIT. 

The  distant  danger  greater  still  appears ; 
Less  fears  he,  who  is  near  the  thing  he  fears. 

WITH  many  imprecations  on  the  rashness  and  folly  of 
young  men  in  general  and  of  his  own  nephew  in  particu- 
lar, the  veteran  accompanied  by  Dick,  took  his  seat  in 
the  three  o'clock  train  for  Southampton. 

He  did  not  consider  it  necessary  to  take  a  whole  first- 
class  carriage  for  himself  and  his  companion,  so  the  pres- 
ence of  several  other  travelers  in  the  same  compartment 
with  him,  restrained  his  growling. 

And  soon  after  the  train  started,  the  motion  of  the  car- 
riages rocked  him  to  sleep,  and  he  slept  soundly  until 
they  reached  their  journey's  end. 

Dick,  who  had  alternately  read  the  morning's  papers, 
and  dozed  through  the  journey,  woke  his  uncle  up  as  the 
train  entered  the  Southampton  station,  where  the  duel- 
ists had  passed  about  ten  hours  before. 

It  was  nearly  seven  o'clock. 

«  Here  we  are  "  said  Dick,  gathering  up  his  light  lug- 
gage, while  his  uncle  slowly  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked 
about  him. 

"  Eh  ?  well !  yes !  I  suppose  we  had  better  call  a  cab 
and  drive  to  a  hotel  and  engage  rooms  first  of  all,"  said 
the  General,  still  rubbing  his  eyes,  and  being  only  half 
awake. 

"  I  suppose  we  had  better  call  a  cab  and  drive  immedi- 
ately down  to  the  docks  and  see  if  we  can  hire  a  yacht 
or  steamboat  to  take  us  to  Guernsey,"  suggested  Dick. 

"  Oh  !  aye !  yes !  certainly !  to  be  sure !  I  had  forgot- 
ten," exclaimed  the  General. 

The  guard  unlocked  the  door  to  let  them  out. 

As  they  appeared  upon  the  platform,  the  two  detectives 
who  had  come  down  with  them  joined  company. 

"  Call  a  cab,  Willet,  if  you  please.     We  will  go  at  once 
to  the  docks  and  try  to  engage  a  vessel  of  some  kind  to 
take  us  to  Guernsey." 
18 


274:  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

u  Yes,  sir ;  but  if  you  please,  I  think  we  had  better  call 
first  at  police  head-quarters  to  make  inquiries.  They  may 
have  some  later  and  better  intelligence,"  suggested  the 
detective. 

M  Exactly  !  yes !  to  be  sure  !  You  are  quite  right.  We 
will  go  there  first,"  agreed  the  General. 

The  detective  beckoned  the  cab  and  gave  the  order,  and 
they  all  got  into  it  and  drove  to  police  head-quarters. 

Willet,  who  had  ridden  beside  the  cabman,  got  down 
and  went  in  to  seek  farther  information. 

He  was  gone  but  a  few  moments,  and  then  he  returned 
and  opened  the  door  of  the  cab  and  spoke  to  the  General. 

"  It  is  very  lucky  we  called  here  first,  sir ;  else  we 
might  have  been  fatally  misled." 

"  Why  ?  what's  the  matter  ?  "  inquired  the  General. 

"  There  was  a  mistake  in  the  telegram,  sir.  It  was  not 
to  Guernsey  they  went,  but  to  Jersey." 

"  Tut,  tut,  that  was  a  very  unlucky  mistake,  and  might 
have  proved  to  be  a  fatal  one,  as  you  said.  Are  you  cer- 
tain now  of  your  information  ?  " 

u  Quite  certain,  sir.  The  duelists  took  the  St.  Aubins 
steamer  and  sailed  for  that  port  at  eleven  this  morning. 
As  soon  as  the  office  here  discovered  their  mistake,  they 
telegraphed  the  correction  to  London.  But  of  course  we 
had  left  before  that  second  telegram  arrived." 

«  Have  you  any  farther  information  ?  "  inquired  Dick. 

«  None  whatever." 

"  Then  we  must  drive  to  the  docks  immediately," 
ordered  the  General. 

The  detective  mounted  the  box  beside  the  cabman  and 
transmitted  the  order. 

And  they  were  driven  rapidly  down  to  the  docks. 

They  alighted  and  went  about  making  diligent  inquiries 
for  a  vessel. 

Fortune  favored  them,  or  rather  Money  did.  Money  is 
a  great  magician.  No  wonder  it  is  sometimes  fatally  mis- 
taken for  a  god,  and  more  fatally  worshiped  as  one. 

In  answer  to  their  inquiries,  they  were  told  of  a  swift- 
sailing,  schooner- rigged  yacht,  owned  by  a  company  that 
were  in  the  habit  of  letting  it  out  to  parties  of  pleasure  for 
excursions  to  the  Channel  Isles  or  along  the  coast.  And 
they  were  directed  to  the  spot  where  the  "  Flying  Foam  n 


THE  PURSUIT.  275 

lay  idly  at  anchor,  and  were  told  that  the  master  of  the 
crew  was  also  the  agent  of  the  company. 

Encouraged  by  this  information,  our  party  engaged  a 
row-boat,  and  went  out  into  the  harbor,  and  boarded  the 
"  Flying  Foam." 

The  master  happened  to  be  on  deck.  He  came  forward 
to  meet  the  boarding-party. 

u  Is  this  yacht  disengaged  ?  "  inquired  the  General. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

u  Can  we  engage  it  for  immediate  service  ?  " 

"  For  immediate  service — that  is  very  sudden,  sir  ? " 
remarked  the  master,  looking  suspiciously  at  the  speaker. 

«  I  know  it  is,  but  so  is  our  business  sudden,  being  a 
matter  of  life  and  death.  "We  cannot  wait  for  the  sailing 
of  the  steamer.  But  we  are  willing  to  pay  extra  price 
for  extra  haste,"  replied  the  General. 

And  there  was  that  about  his  stately  form  and  fine 
face,  and  martial  manner  which  rebuked  the  suspicion, 
while  the  words,  and  particularly  the  promise  of  extra  pay 
appealed  to  the  interest  of  the  agent. 

"  You  want  the  yacht  immediately,  you  say,  sir  ?  "  he 
inquired. 

"  Immediately,  or  as  soon  as  the  tide  will  serve." 

u  The  tide  will  serve  hi  half  an  hour,  sir." 

"  Can  she  be  got  ready  ?  " 

"  For  what  port,  sir  ?  " 

«  St.  Aubins." 

The  master  rubbed  his  forehead  and  looked  down  at  his 
shoes,  as  if  in  deep  cogitation. 

"  My  friend,  while  you  are  deliberating,  tune  is  flying," 
said  the  General  impatiently. 

"  She  can  be  got  ready  fast  enough,  sir.  It  isn't  that. 
Why,  sir,  you  are  strangers  to  us,  and  we  don't  know  any- 
thing of  what  you  are  in  such  a  hurry  for." 

«  We  go  to  arrest  a  party,  and  prevent  a  duel,  if  you 
must  know  ! "  exclaimed  the  General,  impatiently  disre- 
garding the  signals  of  the  detective,  who  would  have  cau- 
tioned him. 

w  Oh  !  beg  pardon,  sir ;  but  this  is — is  going  to  cost  a 
pretty  penny — and " 

"  And  you  don't  feel  safe  as  to  the  payment,  eh  ?  If 
that  is  all,  you  may  weigh  anchor  and  hoist  sail  at  once, 


276  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

for  I  have  not  come  unprovided,"  said  General  Lyon,  taking 
out  his  pocket-book  and  displaying  a  large  roll  of  hundred 
pound  Bank  of  England  notes. 

"  You  do  not  suspect  them  to  be  counterfeits,  I  hope  ?  n 
laughed  the  General. 

"  Oh,  no  !  beg  pardon,  sir.  It  is  all  right  now,  I  am 
only  an  agent,  sir,  and  held  responsible  by  my  employers." 

«*  To  be  sure.  And  now  I  hope  you  can  set  your  crew 
to  work." 

"  Are  you  going  just  as  you  are,  sir  ?  Would  you  like 
to  go  on  shore  first  ?  " 

"  We  have  no  time  to  lose  in  going  on  shore.  We  shall 
go  to  St.  Aubins  just  as  we  are.  I  suppose  there  are 
shops  in  that  town  where  one  may  procure  the  necessaries 
of  life  ?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly,  sir." 

And  the  captain  of  the  yacht  went  aft  and  called  all 
hands  on  deck,  and  gave  his  orders,  and,  by  dint  of  loud 
hallooing  and  hard  swearing,  got  them  so  promptly  ex- 
ecuted that  when  the  tide  turned  the  yacht  sailed. 

They  had  a  very  fine  run  under  the  starlit  sky  over  the 
calm  sea ;  but  for  the  painful  errand  they  would  have  been  a 
party  of  pleasure.  Even  as  it  was,  they  enjoyed  the  trip. 
There  was  nothing  on  General  Lyon's  conscience,  or  on 
Dick's  mind,  to  deaden  either  of  them  to  the  heavenly 
beauty  of  the  night.  They  had  slept  on  the  train,  and  so 
now  they  were  wide  awake  on  the  yacht. 

They  walked  up  and  down  the  deck  talking  sociably 
with  each  other,  admiring  the  elegant  form  and  the  swift 
sailing  of  the  yacht,  delighting  in  the  fresh  breezes  of  the 
ocean,  and  almost  worshiping  the  glory  of  the  star-span- 
gled heavens. 

They  walked  up  and  down  fore  and  aft,  while  the  yacht 
sped  over  the  waters,  until  they  became  hungry,  and  then 
they  remembered  for  the  first  time  that  they  had  had 
neither  dinner  nor  tea,  nor  had  brought  any  provisions 
for  a  meal  on  board. 

"  It  is  usual  for  parties  who  hire  a  yacht  to  find  their 
own  grub,  I  believe,  and  we  never  thought  of  doing  it," 
said  Dick. 

« We  had  no  time  for  doing  it,"  said  the  General. 

"  Well,  I  fancy  the  master  does  not  keep  a  black  fast 


THE  PURSUIT.  277 

He  must  have  a  secret  store  somewhere,  so  I  will  just 
step  and  see." 

And  Dick  went  in  search  of  the  master,  who  undertook 
to  be  their  host  for  the  voyage. 

In  twenty  minutes  after  the  voyagers  were  called  to 
supper  in  the  captain's  cabin — and  to  such  a  supper  for 
hungry  men !  There  were  pickled  salmon,  cold  ham,  cold 
chicken  an  excellent  salad,  light  bread  Stilton  cheese, 
pastry,  fruits  native  and  tropical,  and  such  fine  wines  as 
can  only  be  procured — or  could  then  only  be  procured, 
duty  free,  at  the  Channel  Isles. 

They  made  an  excellent  meal  and  then  returned  to 
the  deck  and  sat  down  to  enjoy  the  lovely  night  and 
the  pure  sea-breezes,  until  twelve  midnight,  when  feel- 
ing a  little  tired,  they  went  down  into  the  cabin  and 
turned  in. 

Rocked  by  the  motion  of  the  vessel  they  fell  asleep, 
and  slept  soundly  until  the  "  Flying  Foam  "  entered  the 
harbor  of  St.  Aubins. 

Then  they  were  awakened  by  the  captain's  steward, 
who  came  down  to  teH  them  the  yacht  was  hi  port.  The 
sun  was  just  rising. 

The  pretty  little  maritime  town  lay  gleaming  in  the 
earliest  beams  of  the  morning.  Behind  it  arose  the  dark 
background  of  Noirmont  Heights.  On  the  right  and  left, 
rolled  a  richly- wooded  landscape  of  hill  and  dell. 

Even  the  gravity  of  the  errand  upon  which  they  had 
come  could  not  quite  make  our  friends  insensible  to  the 
novelty  and  beauty  of  the  scene. 

"  Will  you  choose  to  have  breakfast  before  you  go  on 
shore  ? "  inquired  the  master,  coming  to  the  side  of  the 
two  gentlemen,  as  they  stood  on  deck  looking  out  upon 
the  harbor,  with  its  little  shipping,  and  the  town,  with  its 
quaint  Anglo-French  streets  and  houses,  while  they  waited 
for  the  boat  to  be  got  ready. 

"  Breakfast  ?  No,  thank  you,  not  even  if  it  was  on  the 
table ;  for  there,  I  think  our  boat  is  ready  now,"  answered 
the  General. 

And  he  went  to  the  side  of  the  yacht,  and  followed  by 
Dick  and  the  two  detectives,  descended  into  the  boat. 

They  were  rapidly  rowed  to  the  shore. 

There  were  no  cabs  in  sight. 


278  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  now  ?  "  inquired  the  General. 

u  There  is  nothing  for  it,  but  to  walk  up  into  the  town, 
and  over  it,  if  necessary,"  answered  Dick. 

"  Luckily  for  us  all,  that  may  be  done  without  much 
bodily  fatigue.  It  is  not  a  very  large  place,"  remarked 
the  General. 

ttlf  you  please,  gentlemen,  I  think  we  had  better  look 
for  our  men  at  the  hotels.  It  is  still  so  early  that  they 
can  scarcely  have  started  on  their  dueling  adventure," 
suggested  one  of  the  detectives. 

u  Lead  the  way,  then.  You  know  the  town,  I  think 
you  told  me,"  said  the  General. 

"Oh,  yes,  sir,"  answered  the  detective,  bending  his 
steps  towards  the  principal  hotel. 

While  they  were  yet  at  some  distance  from  the  house, 
they  saw  a  carriage  drive  off  from  before  it.  Slight  as 
the  circumstance  was  in  itself,  when  considered  in  rela- 
tion to  the  hour  and  other  circumstances,  it  seemed  very 
significant.  So  they  hurried  on. 

Before  they  reached  the  house  however, they  saw  another 
carriage  draw  up  before  the  entrance,  and  a  party  come 
out  and  enter  it;  and  then  they  saw  the  carriage  drive  off, 
but  not  in  the  same  direction  taken  by  the  first. 

"  There  are  our  duelists  !  "  exclaimed  the  detective  in 
triumph,  "  one  party  is  in  the  first  carriage,  and  the  othej 
in  the  second." 

"  But  they  took  opposite  directions,"  gasped  the  Gen- 
eral, out  of  breath  with  his  rapid  walk. 

"  That  was  to  mislead  people.  They  have  taken  oppo- 
site, but  each  will  make  a  half  circle  and  meet  on  the 
appointed  ground  unless  we  stop  them,"  said  Willet, 
striding  onwards  at  a  rate  that  made  it  difficult  for  his 
companions  to  keep  up  with  him. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  we  are  to  stop  it  now,"  groaned  the 
General. 

**  We  must  take  a  cab  from  the  hotel,  and  make  what 
inquiries  as  to  the  route  taken  by  the  others  that  we 
have  time  for." 

While  talking  they  had  hurried  on  with  all  their  might, 
and  now  they  were  at  the  hotel. 

"Is  Prince  Ernest  of  Hohenlinden  stopping  here?" 
inquired  the  General,  stepping  at  once  up  to  the  office. 


THE  PURSUIT.  279 

"  There  is  a  foreigner  of  rank  who  arrived  here  late 
last  night  by  the  Southampton  steamer." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  " 

"  Gone  out  for  a  morning  ride  by  the  sea,  I  think." 

"  Ah !  you  have  other  travelers  here  who  arrived  by 
the  Southampton  boat  ?  " 

"Yes;  an  American  gentleman,  I  think,  a  scientific 
man,  who  has  gone  out  with  his  servant  to  hunt  for  min- 
erals in  the  Noirmont  Heights." 

"  All !  a  scientific  man  in  search  of  minerals ! "  grunted 
the  General. 

"  By  the  way,  there  were  two  of  them,  they " 

"  Oh,  two  of  them,  were  they  !  Master  and  pupil,  very 
likely  ;  or  principal  and  second." 

"  They  took  with  them  a  servant  carrying  a  box  of 
tools." 

"  Ah  !  hum !  yes !  a  box  of  tools !  Bless  my  life,  I  won- 
der when  that  cab  will  be  ready  !  Ah,  here  he  comes," 
impatiently  exclaimed  General  Lyon,  as  Willet,  who  had 
gone  after  the  cab,  entered  and  reported  it  was  ready. 

The  whole  party  entered  the  cab  except  one  of  the  de- 
tectives, who,  as  usual,  rode  on  the  box  beside  the  driver. 
This  officer  gave,  as  a  general  direction,  the  nearest  route 
to  Noirmont  Heights.  And  the  cabman  took  it. 

As  they  left  town  the  detective  farther  ordered : 

"  When  we  reach  the  foot  of  the  heights,  inquire  for  a 
cab  that  passed  some  twenty  minutes  before  us;  and 
then  follow  the  road  taken  by  that  cab  until  you  come  up 
with  it." 

The  cabman  touched  his  hat  in  acquiescence  as  they 
went  on. 

Just  at  that  instant  the  report  of  fire-arms  startled 
their  ears,  reverberating  through  the  heights  and  echoed 
and  re-echoed  back  from  rock  to  rock. 

"  My !  we  are  too  late  !  "  exclaimed  the  General,  in 

despair. 

"  Indeed  I  fear  we  are  too  late  to  prevent  the  duel,  but 
we  may  be  in  time  to  succor  the  wounded,"  added  Dick. 

"  Can  you  see  the  smoke  from  that  discharge  of  pistols  ?  " 
inquired  the  detective  on  the  box  of  the  cabman  beside 
him. 

«  No,  sir,  and  if  I  could  it  would  be  hard  to  tell  it  now 


280  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

from  the  smoke  of  the  butters'  chimneys,  or  even  from 
the  mist  of  the  morning." 

"  Drive  then  in  the  direction  from  which  the  report 
came." 

"  But,  sir,  it  echoes  so  through  the  crags,  it's  a'most  im- 
possible to  tell  which  way  it  did  come  from.  All  we  can 
know  now  is,  as  how  it  came  from  among  the  rocks." 

Willet  knew  that  the  cabman  was  right,  since  he  was 
sure  that  he  himself  could  get  no  correct  clue  to  the 
route  from  either  the  sound  or  the  smoke  of  the  firing. 

«  Look  out  for  the  cab  then  and  do  the  best  you  can. 
We  wish  to  come  up  with  that  firing  party." 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  the  cabman. 

But  hi  fact  it  seemed  all  wrong.  They  kept  a  bright 
lookout  for  the  cab,  hoping,  though  it  was  now  probably 
empty,  to  be  directed  by  its  driver  to  the  dueling  ground. 
But  many  roads  traversed  these  mountain  solitudes,  and 
their  number  and  intricacies  were  confusing.  Our  party 
drove  on  to  some  distance  farther,  but  saw  no  cab  and 
heard  no  more  firing. 

Then  they  turned  back  and  struck  into  a  cross-road 
and  pursued  it  for  some  distance  with  no  better  success. 
Again  they  turned  from  their  course,  came  back  upon  the 
main  road  and  took  the  opposite  branch  of  the  cross-road 
and  followed  it  some  distance,  but  in  vain.  Finally  in 
despair  they  turned  their  horses'  heads  towards  the  town, 
the  General  saying : 

"  It  is  all  over  by  this  time ;  and  dead  or  ali ve,  they 
have  left  the  ground,  and  we  shall  have  a  better  chance  of 
hearing  of  them  at  the  hotel  than  elsewhere." 

As  they  drove  rapidly  towards  the  town  they  came  upon 
a  group  of  laborers  eagerly  talking  together  by  the  road- 
side. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  What  has  happened  ?  Where 
was  that  firing  ? "  inquired  General  Lyon,  putting  his 
head  out  of  the  window,  as  the  cab  drew  up. 

"  Why,  your  honor,  there  have  been  a  row  on  the  heights 
back  there,  among  some  gents,  and  one  of  um  have  been 
shot  and  carried  to  the  hotel  down  yonder  in  the  town  ; 
and  t'other  one  is  took  and  locked  up,"  answered  one  of 
the  laborers,  with  the  usual  mixture  of  truth  and  false- 
hood. 


THE  PURSUIT.  281 

«  Which  was  shot  ?  "  inquired  the  detective. 

"  Why,  that  I  can't  say  ;  but  any  ways  it  was  one  of  um 
as  was  shot  and  brought  home  on  a  door,  and  t'other  one 
was  took  and  locked  up." 

"  Was  the  man  who  was  shot  killed  ? "  anxiously  in- 
quired General  Lyon. 

"  Well,  your  honor,  '  when  the  brains  is  out  the  man  is 
dead,'  "  replied  the  peasant,  unconsciously  quoting  Shake- 
speare. 

General  Lyon  sank  back  in  his  chair  with  a  deep  groan. 
One  of  the  duelists  was  killed.  Whether  it  was  Prince 
Ernest  or  Alexander  Lyon,  whether  his  nephew  was  the 
murderer  or  the  murdered  man,  the  event  was  fatal. 

M  Drive  as  rapidly  as  possible  back  to  the  hotel,"  said  the 
detective  on  the-  box  to  the  driver  by  his  side. 

And  they  were  whirled  swiftly  as  horses  could  go,  to  the 
St.  Aubins  hotel. 

There  all  was  bustle.  A  duel  was  not  such  a  common 
event  as  to  be  passed  over  lightly. 

General  Lyon  sprang  out  of  his  cab  with  almost  the 
agility  of  youth,  and  hurried  into  the  office  to  make  inqui- 
ries of  the  clerk. 

«  What  man  was  that  who  was  shot  ?  "  he  shortly  asked. 

"  The  American,  sir ;  but  it  is  hoped  he  will  do  well 
yet." 

«  He  is  not  dead  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  surely  not." 

«  Thank  Heaven  for  that !    And  the  other  one  ?  " 

u  The  prince  ?    He  was  not  hurt,  sir." 

«  Thank  Heaven  for  that  also ! " 

"  They  were  the  parties  you  were  looking  for  this  morn- 
ing, were  they  not  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  I  had  ascertained  their  object  in  coming 
here,  and  hoped  to  be  in  time  to  stop  them.  Where  have 
they  put  my  nephew  ?  " 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir  ?  " 

*'  The  wounded  man  ;  where  have  they  put  him  ?  " 

"  In  his  own  room,  sir." 

w  Send  a  waiter  to  show  me  to  his  bedside.  I  am  his 
uncle." 

"  Indeed,  sir  ?  Certainly,  sir.  Come  here,  John.  Show 
this  gentleman  to  Number  10." 


282  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

A  waiter  stepped  forward  at  the  order,  bowed  and  led 
the  way  followed  by  the  General,  up  one  flight  of  stairs, 
along  a  corridor,  and  to  a  chamber  door. 

"  This  is  Number  10,  sir,"  John  said,  opening  the  door. 

The  veteran  entered  the  room,  and  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  Francis  Tredegar,  who  had  risen  to  see  who  the 
intruder  might  be. 

«  General  Lyon  ! " 

"Mr.  Tredegar!" 

Such  were  the  simultaneous  exclamations  of  the  friends 
on  so  unexpectedly  meeting. 

"  You  here  ?  " 

u  I  came  with  Lord  Killcrichtoun." 

"  How  is  he  ?  " 

u  The  surgeon  reports  favorably  of  his  wounds,  but  he 
must  be  kept  very  quiet.  Will  you  pass  with  me  into  the 
sitting-room  ? — Simms,  do  not  leave  your  master's  side  un- 
til I  return. — This  way,  General,"  said  Francis  Tredegar, 
rising  and  opening  a  door  leading  into  their  private  parlor. 

There  the  friends  sat  down  together, — the  General 
heated  and  anxious,  Francis  Tredegar  surprised  and 
curious. 

u  I  followed  as  quickly  as  I  could  after  hearing  of  my 
nephew's  mad  purpose.  I  hired  a  yacht  and  pursued 
him,  hoping  to  be  in  time  to  save  him.  I  wish  now  that 
I  had  hired  a  special  train  from  London.  It  would  have 
given  me  three  hours  in  advance,  and  I  should  then  have 
been  in  time,"  groaned  the  General,  wiping  his  face. 

"  Take  comfort^  sir.  It  might  have  had  a  fatal  termina- 
tion. As  it  is,  we  have  reason  to  thank  Heaven  for  an  un- 
merited mercy.  Prince  Ernest  has  escaped  unhurt,  and 
has  returned  to  England.  Lord  Killcrichtoun  is  wounded, 
but  not  fatally.  *  All's  well  that  ends  well.'  " 

"  '  That  ends  well ! '  Yes,  but  who  can  say  that  this 
will  end  well?  Oh,  Heaven,  how  much  trouble  that 
young  man  has  caused  me  and  all  who  are  dear  to  me  ! 
But  he  is  my  only  brother's  only  son !  my  dead  brother's 
only  child!  and  in  spite  of  all  I  have  said  and  sworn 
I  must  try  to  save  him." 

**  Is  he  so  near  of  kin  to  you,  sir  ?  I  had  not  suspected 
it" 

"No;  his  new    ridiculous    title,    together    with    the 


THE  PURSUIT.  283 

estrangement  that  has  been  between  us,  would  naturally 
mislead  any  one  who  had  not  known  us  previously  as 
to  the  facts  of  our  kinship.  You  came  with  him  on  this 
Quixotic  adventure  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Francis  Tredegar,  blushing  and 
beginning  to  defend  himself  before  the  Christian  soldier, 
"Yes,  sir;  after  having  tried  in  vain  to  dissuade  my 
friend  from  the  duel,  I  resolved  to  see  him  through  it." 

"  I  am  not  intending  to  blame  you,  my  young  friend. 
To  me,  certainly,  you  meant  no  wrong ;  and  to  my  unhappy 
nephew  only  kindness.  For  the  rest,  it  is  a  matter  be- 
tween yourself  and  your  own  conscience.  As  for  me,  in 
the  way  of  a  soldier's  duty,  I  have  been  in  some  battles ; 
but  I  would  not,  nor  do  I  remember  any  period  of  my 
youth  in  which  I  would  have  engaged,  either  as  principal 
or  second,  in  any  duel  for  any  cause  whatever,"  said  the 
brave  old  veteran. 

"  Oh,  sir — but  that  is  a  rebuke  ;  and  coming  from  you, 
a  very  severe  one,"  said  the  young  culprit,  sorrowfully. 

"  It  is  not  intended  as  such,  Francis.  Men,  I  know, 
have  different  ideas  upon  these  subjects.  For  instance,  I 
do  not  believe  it  lawful  in  a  man,  for  the  gratification  of 
his  selfish  passions  or  the  *  satisfaction'  of  his  imaginary 
*  honor,'  to  risk  his  life  or  seek  the  life  of  another.  I  be- 
lieve it  to  be  a  high  offence  against  the  Author  of  all  life. 
Nor  could  I  engage  in  any  adventure  upon  which  I  could 
not  invoke  the  blessing  of  Heaven." 

"  Which  we  could  not  do  on  our  adventure,  certainly. 
But  I  do  most  humbly  and  thankfully  acknowledge 
Heaven's  undeserved  great  mercy  on  its  issue." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  Francis.  And  now  will 
you  kindly  touch  the  bell — it  is  at  your  elbow,  I  see — and 
tell  the  waiter  when  he  comes  to  show  Mr.  Hammond  up 
into  this  room." 

"  Dick  is  with  you  ?  "  inquired  Francis,  as  he  complied 
with  the  General's  request. 

"  Certainly.  Did  I  not  tell  you  so  ?  But  I  left  him  to 
settle  with  the  cabman  while  I  ran  hi  to  make  inquiries 
of  the  clerk." 

As  the  General  spoke  the  waiter  entered  the  room. 

"  Go  down  and  find  out  Mr.  Hammond  and  show  him 
up  into  this  room,"  said  Mr.  Tredegar. 


284  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

The  waiter  bowed  and  disappeared;  but  soon  came 
back  and  ushered  in  Dick. 

There  was  a  start  of  surprise  from  Dick  at  seeing  Mr. 
Tredegar,  and  then  a  grave  hand- shaking  between  them. 

"  Well,  my  boy,  I  suppose  you  have  heard  matters  are 
not  so  bad  as  we  feared  ? "  said  the  General,  turning  to 
Dick. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  thank  Heaven.     Can  I  see  Alexander  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  have  not  seen  him  myself  yet,  except  at  a  dis- 
tance and  covered  up  in  swaddling  bands.  Tredegar  here 
turned  me  out  of  the  room  before  I  could  get  near  the 
bedside." 

"  Invited  you  out ;  brought  you  here,  General,"  said 
Francis,  deprecatingly. 

"  It  amounts  to  the  same  thing,  my  dear  fellow,"  said 
the  General,  good-humoredly.  "  Tredegar  was  Alexan- 
der's second  in  this  mad  affair,"  he  added,  turning  to 
Dick. 

"So  I  supposed  on  seeing  him  here,"  answered  Mr. 
Hammond. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Francis  Tredegar,  "if  you  will 
excuse  me  for  a  moment,  I  will  go  in  and  see  my  patient, 
and  then  come  back  and  let  you  know  whether  you  also 
can  see  him  with  safety." 

"  Go,  Francis,"  said  the  General,  waving  his  hand. 

Tredegar  went  out,  and  after  a  few  moments  returned 
and  said : 

"  He  seems  to  be  sleeping  soundly,'  or  else  to  be  sunk 
into  a  deep  stupor ;  indeed  I  am  not  physician  enough  to 
say  which.  But  in  either  case,  I  think,  if  you  come  in 
quietly,  you  can  do  him  no  harm." 

Then  they  all  went  into  the  wounded  man's  chamber 
and  stood  at  his  bedside,  and  looked  at  him. 

There  he  lay,  less  like  a  sick  or  wounded  patient  than 
the  laid-out  corpse  of  a  dead  man.  His  hair  was  cut  short 
and  his  head  bandaged  with  wet  linen  cloths.  His  face 
was  deadly  pallid,  with  a  greenish  white  hue ;  his  eyes 
were  closed  and  sunken ;  his  lips  compressed ;  and  his 
features  still  and  stiff.  His  chest  was  also  bandaged 
with  wet  linen  cloths,  and  his  shoulders  and  chest  wrapped 
in  a  sheet  instead  of  a  shirt,  for  the  convenience  of 


THE  PURSUIT.  285 

frequently  changing  the  dressings  of  his  wound.  Hia 
form  was  still  and  stiff  as  his  features. 

On  seeing  this  ghastly  sight,  Dick  uttered  an  irrepres- 
sible exclamation  of  horror.  Even  the  veteran-soldier 
groaned. 

"  It  is  not  half  as  bad  as  it  looks,"  said  Francis  encour- 
agingly. "  There  is  nothing  in  the  wor^d  makes  a  man 
look  so  death-like  as  these  white  swaddling-clothes,  that 
put  us  hi  mind  of  winding-sheets.  The  surgeon  says  he 
will  do  well." 

"  Ah  ?  who  is  attending  him  ?  "  inquired  the  General, 

"  Prince  Ernest  left  his  own  physician  here  to  look  after 
him.  He  is  Doctor  Dietz,  a  graduate  of  one  of  the  medi- 
cal colleges  of  Vienna — which,  I  am  told,  are  now  really 
the  best,  and  are  destined  soon  to  be  acknowledged  as  the 
best  medical  schools  in  the  world." 

"  And  this  eminent  surgeon  says  that  the  wounded 
man  will  do  well  ?  " 

"  These  were  his  very  words." 

"  That  is  satisfactory." 

"  And  now,  General,  that  you  have  seen  your  nephew,  I 
think  we  had  better  all  adjourn  to  the  parlor.  Our  patient 
wants  all  the  air  in  this  room  for  himself,"  advised  Mr. 
Tredegar. 

When  they  went  back  to  the  parlor,  Dick  turned  to 
Francis  Tredegar,  and  said  : 

"  You  will  let  us  have  the  use  of  this  room  for  an  hour 
or  two,  until  we  settle  what  we  are  to  do  next." 

"  Why,  certainly.  The  room  is  your  own.  At  least  it 
is  Alick's,  which  is  now  exactly  the  same  thing,  since  he 
is  lying  helpless  and  you  are  his  next  of  kin.  Shall  I  re- 
tire ?  Do  you  wish  to  be  alone  ?  " 

"  By  no  means.  I  only  want  to  order  breakfast  up 
here.  We  have  been  up,  walking  or  driving  over  the 
country  in  pursuit  of  the  duelists,  since  six  o'clock  this 
morning,  and  it  is  now  eleven,  and  we  have  had  nothing 
to  eat  and  are  famished." 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  that ! 
allow  me  !  "  exclaimed  Francis  Tredegar,  starting  up  and 
ringing  the  bell. 

«  Breakfast  for  three,  immediately.     Serve  it  in  this 


286  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

room,  and  bring  the  best  you  have  that  is  ready,"  he 
ordered,  as  soon  as  the  waiter  showed  himself. 

The  cloth  was  soon  laid  and  the  table  spread.  And  our 
friends  sat  down  to  an  excellent  meal  of  rich  coffee  and 
fragrant  tea ;  milk,  cream  and  butter  of  such  excellence 
as  can  be  found  nowhere  else  in  the  world  ;  fish  just  out 
of  the  sea,  beefsteak,  chickens,  French  rolls  and  English 
muffins. 

"  Dick,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  the  General,  as  they  lin- 
gered over  the  delicious  repast,  "  one  of  us  must  remain 
here  to  look  after  Alick,  and  the  other  must  go  back  to 
London  to  take  care  of  little  Lenny  and  the  young 
women." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  I  will  be  the  one  to  go  or  to  stay,  which- 
ever you  shall  decide.  And  pray  think  of  your  own  ease 
and  health,  my  dear  sir,  before  you  do  decide,"  answered 
Hammond. 

"  You  are  a  very  good  fellow,  Dick,  a  very  good  fellow. 
But  I  believe  reason  and  judgment  must  settle  the  matter. 
I  will  remain  here  to  look  after  my  nephew.  He  will  not 
be  likely  to  quarrel  with  me  when  he  sees  me,  as  he  might 
with  you  if  he  should  find  you  by  his  side  when  he  comes 
to  himself.  And,  besides,  I  think  this  quiet,  pretty  sea- 
side town  will  agree  with  me  after  the  hurly-burly  of 
London.  And  lastly  and  mostly — it  is  you  who  ought  to 
go  back  to  town  for  your  wife's  sake." 

"  All  right,  my  dear  sir ;  it  shall  be  as  you  please.  I 
confess  I  like  this  arrangement  best ;  but  if  you  had  said, 
'Dick,  go  and  I  will  stay,'  or  'Dick,  stay  and  I  will  go,'  I 
should  have  obeyed  you  without  a  moment's  hesitation, 
as  a  soldier  obeys  his  commanding  officer." 

"  I  know  you  would,  my  boy,  therefore  it  behooves  me 
to  consider  your  interests  before  I  make  a  decision." 

"  And  now  let  us  see  about  the  time  of  starting,  I 
must  return  in  the  yacht,  of  course." 

"  Of  course." 

**  Then  it  will  depend  upon  the  tide.  I  had  better  go 
down,  and  see  the  master." 

"Yes,  I  think  you  had." 

Dick  Hammond  took  his  hat  and  went  down  to  the 
yacht. 

Captain  Wallace  was  not  on  board  when  Mr.  Hammond 


THE  PURSUIT.  287 

reached  the  deck.  The  captain  was  taking  a  holiday  by 
walking  through  the  town,  and  probably  solacing  himself 
with  a  pipe  and  a  bottle  of  brandy  at  some  favorite  resort 
where  the  old  mariner  was  well  known. 

So  Dick  had  to  wait  an  hour  or  two  for  his  return. 

When  Wallace  came  back  Dick  soon  discovered  that  he 
was  well  posted  up  in  regard  to  the  event,  which  was 
then  the  one  topic  of  conversation  at  every  coffee  room  in 
the  town. 

"  And  so  you  were  too  late  to  stop  the  duel,  sir  ?  "  were 
almost  the  first  words  the  master  of  the  yacht  spoke  to 
Dick. 

"  Yes ;  but  the  affair  did  not  terminate  so  fatally  as 
might  have  been  apprehended. 

"  No,  so  I  hear — so  I  hear !  And  the  wounded  gentle- 
man was  your  kinsman,  sir  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Shall  you  take  him  over  to  England  ?" 

"  Oh,  no.  He  cannot  be  moved  at  present.  My  uncle 
will  remain  here  to  look  after  him  ;  but  I  return  at  once, 
or  as  soon  as  the  tide  will  serve." 

"  That  will  be  about  nine  o'clock." 

"  Can  you  be  ready  to  make  sail  by  that  time  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  the  yacht  is  yours  for  the  time  it  is  hired." 

"  Then  we  will  sail  at  nine.  I  will  be  here  punctually 
at  that  hour." 

"  All  right,  sir." 

Dick  Hammond  returned  to  the  hotel,  where  he  arrived 
about  one  o'clock.  He  spent  the  day  and  dined  with  his 
uncle  and  his  friend. 

At  half-past  eight  o'clock  he  paid  his  last  visit  to  the 
bedside  of  his  cousin,  in  whom,  as  yet,  there  appeared  but 
little  change. 

And  then  he  took  leave  of  all  and  went  down  to  the 
yacht ;  and  at  a  few  minutes  after  nine  the  "  Flying 
Foam  "  made  sail  for  England. 


THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


What  is  life  ?    Tis  like  the  ocean, 

In  its  placid  hours  of  rest, — 
Sleeping  calmly,  no  emotion 

Rising  on  its  tranquil  breast. 

But,  too  soon,  the  heavenly  sky 

Is  obscured  by  Nature's  hand ; 
And  the  whirlwind,  passing  by, 

Leaves  a  wreck  upon  the  strand. — ANONYMOUS. 

"A  BLACK  cloud,  that!  rising  over  yonder — we  shall 
have  dirty  weather  to-night,"  said  the  master  of  the  "  Fly- 
ing Foam,"  coming  to  the  side  of  Dick  Hammond,  as  the 
latter  stood  leaning  over  the  bulwarks  of  the  yacht  and 
looking  out  upon  the  receding  town  and  shores  of  St. 
Aubins. 

Dick  raised  his  eyes  to  a  long  black  line  just  visible 
above  the  heights  of  'Xoirmont,  and  then  said  : 

"  Yes  ;  I  think  it  looks  threatening  ;  but  the  *  Flying 
Foam  '  is  a  sea- worthy  little  craft,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Bless  you,  yes,  sir !  I've  seen  her  ride  safely  over 
seas  that  would  have  swamped  a  ship  of  the  line,"  an- 
swered the  master,  as  he  went  forward  to  make  ready  for 
the  expected  "  dirty  weather." 

And  dirty  weather  it  was,  though  not  so  "  dirty  "  as  to 
endanger  the  safety  of  the  yacht. 

The  cloud  arose,  and  spread,  and  covered  the  whole  face 
of  the  heavens  as  with  a  black  pall,  in  strange  and  terrible 
contrast  to  the  surface  of  the  sea,  now  lashed  into  a  white 
foam.  A  driving  storm  of  wind  and  rain  came  on. 

Dick,  who  much  preferred  the  comfortable  to  the  sub- 
lime, left  the  deck  and  went  below  to  smoke  and  read  by 
the  light  of  the  cabin  lamp.  But,  after  one  or  two  at- 
tempts,  he  found  the  reading  process  quite  impracticable 
by  the  motion  of  the  vessel,  and  so  he  gave  it  up. 

After  a  while,  he  was  joined  by  the  master,  who  had 
left  the  deck  in  charge  of  his  mate. 

« It  has  turned  into  a  settled  rain  that  will  last  aU 


A  SHOCK.  289 

night,"  said  Captain  Wallace,  as  he  took  the  chair  Dick 
pushed  towards  him  ;  for  Dick,  as  one  of  the  parties  hiring 
the  yacht,  was  king  of  the  cabin. 

"Disagreeable,  but  not  dangerous,"  was  Dick's  cool 
comment  as  he  pushed  his  case  of  cigars  toward  his  guest. 

"  Thank  you,  sir ;  but,  if  you  don't  mind,  I'll  take  my 
pipe,"  said  Captain  Wallace,  who  soon  comprehended  that 
he  might  take  liberties  with  this  good-humored  young 
man  who  was  but  too  ready  to  fraternize  with  the  first 
companion  fortune  favored  him  with. 

And  there  the  two  men  sat  and  smoked  through  the 
first  hours  of  the  dismal  night. 

At  midnight,  they  turned  hi. 

Dick  slept  long  and  well.  It  was  late  in  the  morning 
when  he  awoke.  Judging  from  his  previous  day's  experi- 
ence, he  thought  the  yacht  must  be  in  port  or  near  it. 
He  dressed  himself  quickly,  and  went  on  deck.  He 
found  himself  still  at  sea.  A  slow,  steady  rain  was  fall- 
ing, and  dark  clouds  closed  in  the  horizon.  The  dismal 
night  had  been  followed  by  a  dismal  day  ;  and  the  worst 
of  it  was,  that  he  could  not  sleep  through  the  day  as  he 
had  slept  through  the  night. 

"  Good  morning  to  you,  sir !  a  dark  sky  !  "  said  the  mas- 
ter, coming  up  to  his  side. 

"  Yes.     Are  we  near  port  ?  " 

"  Within  twenty  miles." 

"  How  fast  are  we  going  ?  " 

"How  slow,  you  mean?  The  wind  is  against  us — we 
are  not  making  more  than  four  knots  an  hour." 

"  At  that  rate,  we  shall  not  make  Southampton  in  less 
than  five  hours.  Let  me  see,"  said  Dick,  consulting  his 
watch, — "  it  is  now  ten  o'clock.  We  shall  not,  at  this  rate, 
get  in  before  three." 

"  No,  sir ;  but  you'll  have  some  breakfast  now  ?  " 

"  Thanks,  yes  !  it  will  help  to  pass  the  time,  at  least." 

The  master  beckoned  a  boy,  and  sent  a  message  to  the 
steward. 

And,  in  half  an  hour  afterwards  the  appetizing  break- 
fast of  the  yacht  was  served ;  and  Dick  did  his  usual 
justice  to  the  meal. 

Afterwards  he  killed  the  tune  as  well  as  he  could  by 
reading  a  little,  talking  a  little,  and  smoking  a  little.. 


290  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Affairs  also  turned  out  rather  better  than  he  had  ex» 
peeted.  At  noon  the  wind  changed,  the  sky  cleared,  the 
sun  shone  out,  and  the  "  Flying  Foam,"  with  all  her  sails 
set,  skimmed  over  the  seas  towards  England  at  the  rate 
of  eleven  knots  an  hour. 

At  one  o'clock  she  dropped  anchor  at  Southampton 

Dick  settled  his  last  scores  with  the  master, — who  was 
master  afloat,  and  agent  ashore, — and  then  he  inquired : 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  the  up  train,  captain  ?  " 

"  There  is  an  express  train  starts  at  a  quarter  before 
two,  and  there  is  not  another  train  until  five,"  answered 
the  master. 

"  I'll  take  that  train,"  exclaimed  Dick. 

And  he  made  all  his  own  little  preparations,  and  he 
hurried  the  men  that  were  getting  out  the  boat  to  take 
him  ashore. 

As  soon  as  he  stepped  on  shore,  he  ran  and  called  a  cab, 
jumped  into  it,  and,  having  given  his  hasty  order,  was 
driven  rapidly  to  the  station.  He  was  just  in  time  to 
secure  his  ticket,  spring  into  a  half-empty  carriage — and 
not  a  moment  to  spare  before  the  express  started. 

It  was  not  until  the  train  was  in  motion  and  his  own 
hurry  was  over,  that  he  recollected  one  or  two  things 
that  might  have  been  attended  to  had  he  chosen  to  wait 
a  few  minutes.  First  and  nearest,  he  might  have  taken 
his  change  from  the  cabman,  whose  fare  was  half  a  crown, 
and  to  whom  he  had  thrown  half  a  sovereign. 

But  Dick  did  not  the  least  regret  that  neglect. 

And  then  he  might  have  called  at  the  International  to 
see  if  any  letters  had  been  left  for  him.  But  neither, 
upon  reflection,  did  Dick  regret  this  negleco.  He  con- 
sidered it  was  not  probable  any  letters  were  awaiting 
there  ;  or,  if  there  were,  that  they  should  be  of  much  im- 
portance ;  or,  even  if  so,  whether  he  were  not  doing  the 
very  thing  that  should  be  done  under  such  supposatory 
circumstances,  namely,  hurrying  back  to  London  by  the 
express  train.  So,  upon  the  whole,  Dick  was  glad  he 
forgot  to  lose  time  and  miss  the  express  by  calling  at  the 
International  to  inquire  for  letters. 

The  train  flew  on  with  its  usual  lightning  rate  of  speed 
and  at  five  o'clock  reached  its  station  in  London. 

He  got  out  upon  the  platform,  carpet-bag  in  hand,  and 


A  SHOCK.  291 

began  to  look  for  a  cab,  when  he  heard  a  little  voice  call- 
ing: 

"Dit !  Dit !  oh,  Dit !  tome  here,  Dit!  " 

In  great  surprise  he  looked  about  him,  confidently  ex- 
pecting to  see  little  Lenny  and  Pina,  and  perhaps  Anna 
and  Drusilla,  come  to  the  station  on  the  chance  of  meet- 
ing him. 

But  he  saw  no  one  that  he  knew.  And  though  he 
plunged  into  the  crowd  seeking  the  owner  of  the  little 
voice  in  the  direction  from  which  he  had  heard  it,  he  saw 
nothing  of  either  little  Lenny  or  his  nurse. 

At  length,  thinking  that  he  had  been  mistaken,  he  gave 
up  the  quest,  and  took  a  cab  for  Trafalgar  Square. 

Afterwards  he  recollected,  as  a  dream  or  a  vision,  the 
momentary  flitting  through  the  crowd  of  a  ragged  woman 
with  a  child  in  her  arms. 

But  at  the  instant  of  seeing  these,  he  had  not  dreamed 
of  connecting  them  in  any  way  with  the  voice  he  had 
heard.  With  something  of  that  vague  anxiety  we  all  feel 
in  returning  home,  even  after  a  short  absence,  Richard 
Hammond  hurried  to  Trafalgar  Square. 

As  soon  as  he  reached  the  Morley  House,  he  sprang  from 
the  cab,  tossed  a  crown  piece  to  the  cabman,  and  without 
waiting  for  the  change,  ran  into  the  house  and  up  to  his 
apartments. 

He  went  straight  to  the  drawing-room,  where  he  found 
Anna  sitting  in  the  window  seat. 

She  turned,  and  with  an  exclamation  of  pleasure  started 
up  to  meet  him. 

"  Oh,  Dick  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  back !  What 
news?  How  did  it  all  end ?"  she  breathlessly  inquired 
as  she  threw  herself  into  his  arms. 

"  In  two  words — not  fatally,"  he  answered  as  he  em- 
braced her. 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  that !    You  were  in  time,  then  ?  " 

"  No,  not  in  time  to  prevent  the  meeting.  It  had  taken 
place  a  few  minutes  before  our  arrival  at  St.  Aubins.  By 
the  way,  it  was  not  to  Guernsey,  but  to  Jersey,  that  the 
duelists  went.  We  found  out  the  mistake  in  the  telegram 
as  soon  as  we  reached  Southampton.  We  were  fortunate 
in  being  able  to  hire  a  yacht  and  pursue  them  to  St.  Au- 
bins." 


292  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

M  Bub  you  did  not  reach  there  in  time  to  prevent  the 
duel?" 

«  No,  it  had  already  taken  place,  as  I  told  you." 

«  But  with  what  result- with  what  result?  Oh,  Dick, 
why  can't  you  speak  and  tell  me  ?  " 

u  My  dear,  I  did  tell  you, — with  no  fatal  result." 

"But  with  a  serious  one.  Oh,  Dick,  what  was  it? 

Has  poor  Alick  got  himself  into  trouble  by shooting 

that  Austrian  acrobat  ?  " 

"  No,  nonsense !  Have  more  respect  for  a  prince  than 
to  call  him  an  acrobat,  if  he  does  jump  about  when  he  is 
angered.  He  was  not  hurt — he  was  not  touched.  Alick 
was  too  much  excited  to  aim  steadily,  I  suppose,  so  his 
ball  went — Heaven  knows  where.  But " 

"  But  Alick  himself, — was  he  wounded  ?  " 

"  Alick  was  wounded  in  the  chest  by  a  ball  and  hi  the 
\>ack  of  the  head  by  a  sharp  stone  upon  which  his  head 
struck  in  falling.  Neither  of  the  wounds  is  considered 
dangerous.  I  left  him  in  good  hands  hi  the  St.  Aubins 
hotel." 

"  But  my  grandfather — where  is  he  ?  Why  doesn't  he 
come  up  ?  Of  course  he  returned  with  you  ?  " 

"  No,  he  remained  in  St.  Aubins  to  look  after  Alick." 

"  Oh,  Dick  he  remained  there  !  Then  he  never  received 
our  telegram !  "  said  Anna,  turning  pale. 

"  Your  telegram  !  No !  What  telegram  ?  We  received 
none.  What  has  happened,  Anna  ?  "  demanded  Richard 
Hammond,  becoming  alarmed. 

"  Oh,  Dick,  I  thought  you  knew,"  cried  Anna  dropping 
into  a  chair  and  bursting  into  tears. 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven  what  has  happened  ?  You 
are  well.  But  where  is  Drusilla  ?  Where  is  little  Lenny  ? 
I  don't  see  either  of  them ! " 

«  Oh  Dick !  Dick  !  little  Lenny  is — LOST,"  replied  Anna, 
uttering  the  last  word  with  a  gasp,  and  sobbing  hysteri- 
cally. 

"  Lost !  Good  Heaven,  Anna,  little  Lenny  lost  ? "  re- 
peated Dick,  changing  color. 

«  Yes,  yes,  yes  !  lost  since  day  before  yesterday  after- 
noon— lost  since  the  very  day  you  left.  We  telegraphed 
to  you  the  same  day.  We  hoped  you  would  receive  the 
telegram  immediately  on  your  arrival  at  Southampton  ; 


A  SHOCK.  29S 

and  I  who  knew  that  you  were  going  further,  hoped  that 
at  least  you  would  get  it  on  your  return.  Oh,  Dick !  " 

"  Lost  since  the  day  before  yesterday,  and  not  found 
yet,"  repeated  Richard  Hammond,  in  amazement  and  sor- 
row. 

"  Oh,  yes,  oh,  Dick.  We  have  not  seen  him  since — 
since  you  yourself  saw  him  last.  Oh,  Dick,  he  never  re- 
turned from  that  walk  you  and  grandpa  sent  him  to 
take,  to  get  him  and  Pina  out  of  the  way,  you  know," 
sobbed  Anna. 

"  It  would  kill  my  uncle  !  "  exclaimed  Richard.  "  It 
would  kill  him  !  But,  good  Heaven !  how  did  it  all  hap- 
pen ?  I  don't  understand  it  at  all.  I  can  hardly  believe 
it  yet.  Compose  yourself,  Anna,  if  you  can,  and  tell  me 
all  about  it." 

With  many  sobs  Anna  told  the  story  of  little  Lenny's, 
abduction,  as  far  as  it  was  known  to  herself,  and  also  de- 
scribed the  measures  that  had  been  taken  for  his  recovery, 
but  taken,  so  far,  without  effect. 

"  But  his  poor  young  mother, — how  does  she  bear  it  ? 
and  where  is  she  now  ?  "  inquired  Dick. 

"  Oh,  Dick,  poor  Drusilla !  I  do  fear  for  her  life,  or 
her  reason,  in  this  horrible  suspense,  worse  than  death  1 
Nothing  but  her  unwavering  faith  in  Providence  has 
saved  her  from  insanity  or  death,"  wept  Anna. 

"  But  where  is  she  now  ?  "  repeated  Dick.  "  Can  I  see 
her?" 

"You  cannot  see  her  until  her  return.  She  is  out 
looking  for  her  child.  She  is  always  out  looking  for  him. 
She  takes  a  cab  at  daylight  in  the  morning,  and  drives 
out  through  the  narrow  streets  and  lanes  of  the  city, 
keeping  watch  all  the  time  from  the  cab  windows,  enter- 
ing into  all  the  houses  she  is  permitted  to  visit,  inquir- 
ing of  the  people  about  her  lost  child,  offering  them  heavy 
rewards  for  his  recovery,  pointing  them  to  the  posters  in 
which  his  person  is  described  and  the  great  reward  offered 
and  setting  as  many  people  as  she  can  at  work  to  search 
for  him.  Twenty  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four  she 
spends  in  this  way." 

«  But  this  will  Mil  her." 

"  I  think  it  will.  She  scarcely  eats,  drinks  or  sleeps. 
She  does  nothing  but  look  for  her  child  and  weep  and 


294  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

pray.  When  she  has  worn  out  a  cab-horse,  she  comes 
back  here  to  get  a  fresh  one ;  and  then  I  make  her  drink 
a  little  tea  or  coffee.  At  twelve  or  one  o'clock  in  the 
night,  when  the  houses  are  all  shut  up,  she  comes  back 
here  and  throws  herself  down  upon  the  bed  to  watch 
and  pray,  and  perhaps  to  swoon  into  a  sleep  of  pros- 
tration that  lasts  till  morning.  Then  at  four  or  five 
o'clock  she  is  up  and  away  upon  the  search." 

"  Poor  child !  poor  child !  such  a  life  will  certainly  soon 
kill  her." 

a  I  sometimes  think  the  sooner  it  does  so  the  better 
for  her.  Her  misery  makes  my  heart  bleed.  I  wonder 
how  any  woman  can  suffer  the  intense  anguish  of  sus- 
pense she  endures  and  live  and  keep  her  senses." 

"  Anna,  why  do  you  not  accompany  her  when  she  goes 
out?"  inquired  Dick,  with  some  surprise. 

"  Why,  don't  you  suppose  that  I  do  ?  What  do  you 
take  me  for,  Dick  ?  I  have  always  gone  with  her  until 
this  last  trip.  When  we  returned  home  at  four  o'clock, 
to  get  a  fresh  horse,  she  took  it  into  her  poor  head  that 
you  and  uncle  would  certainly  arrive  by  the  five  o'clock 
train  from  Southampton,  and  so  she  made  me  stay  to 
receive  you." 

"  And,  you  say,  Anna,  that  Alick  is  suspected  of  being 
concerned  hi  this  abduction  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  do  not  know  that  Drusilla  suspects  him 
very  strongly  now.  Pina  first  suggested  it,  and  we  seized 
on  the  idea  with  eagerness.  It  was  so  much  more  com- 
forting to  think  that  he  was  safe  with  his  father  than  in 
danger  anywhere  else." 

«  But,  you  see,  that  is  impossible.  His  father  is  lying 
seriously  wounded,  several  hundred  miles  away." 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  worst  of  it ;  for,  if  Alick  should  have 
employed  these  men  to  steal  little  Lenny  from  his 
mother,  it  is  almost  fatal  to  the  child's  safety  that  the 
father  should  not  have  been  here  to  have  received  him 
from  his  abductors." 

"  And  yet  that  may  be  the  very  case !  Alick,  in  his 
madness,  since  he  was  mad  enough  for  anything,  may 
have  engaged  these  men  to  abduct  the  boy  for  him.  If 
so,  he  must  have  forgotten  the  danger  to  which  the  child 
would  be  exposed  in  the  event  of  this  abduction  being 


A  SHOCK.  295 

completed  during  his  own  absence  or  after  his  death. 
And  so  he  must  have  gone  down  to  Jersey  to  fight  his 
duel,  leaving  little  Lenny  exposed  to  all  the  dangers  he 
had  invoked  around  him.  It  is  dreadful  to  think  of !  If 
Alexander  Lyon  were  not  morally  insane,  he  would  be  a 
demon !  " 

"  To  do  such  a  thing  as  this  ?  But  we  are  not  by  any 
means  sure  he  did  do  it,  Dick  !  " 

"  No,  there  is  a  '  reasonable  doubt,'  as  the  lawyers  have 
it." 

"  And  Alick  should  be  communicated  with  immediately, 
so  as  to  be  posted  in  regard  to  his  son's  danger,  whether 
he  has  had  any  hand  in  it  or  not.  If  he  has  had  any  thing 
to  do  with  it,  he  will  certainly,  under  the  circumstances, 
give  us  the  clue  to  recover  him,  for  he  cannot  wish  the 
boy  to  remain  in  the  hands  of  such  people.  If  he  knows 
nothing  about  the  abduction,  and  learns  it  first  from  us, 
still  he  will  render  what  aid  he  can  in  recovering  the 
boy.  We  did  telegraph  him  to  this  effect  at  Southamp- 
ton, but  of  course  he  missed  his  telegram  as  you  did  yours. 
But  now  he  must  be  consulted  by  letter  immediately — 
write  at  once,  Dick,  so  as  to  save  this  mail,"  said  Anna, 
breathlessly. 

"  My  darling,  you  talk  so  fast  I  can't  keep  pace  with 
you  or  even  get  in  a  word  edgeways, — Alick  is  not  in  a 
condition  to  receive  or  understand  any  sort  of  communi- 
cation, and  will  not  probably  be  so  for  some  days  to  come. 
I  left  him  in  a  state  of  complete  insensibility,  resulting 
from  the  wound  in  the  back  of  his  head." 

"  Good  gracious,  Dick  !  and  you  said  he  was  not  fatally, 
or  even  dangerously  wounded  !  "  cried  Anna,  aghast. 

"And  I  gave  the  opinion  of  the  eminent  surgeon  who 
is  in  attendance  upon  him.  A  man  may  be  so  ill  as  to  be 
incapable  of  attending  to  anything,  and  yet  may  not  be  in 
any  danger  at  all.  But  tell  me,  Anna,  have  you  taken 
the  detectives  into  your  confidence  entirely  upon  this 
subject,  and  put  them  into  possession  of  all  the  facts  of 
the  case  and  all  your  suspicions  as  well  ?  You  know  you 
ought  to  have  done  it." 

"And  we  have  done  it!  For  a  short  time,  Drusilla 
shrank  terribly  from  breathing  a  suspicion  that  her  hus- 
band was  probably  concerned  in  the  taking  off  of  her 


296  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

child ;  but,  when  it  became  evident  that  little  Lenny's 
recovery  depended  upon  the  detectives  having  the  full 
knowledge  of  all  the  circumstances  attending  it,  she  com- 
missioned me  to  tell  them  as  much  as  was  really  neces- 
sary, but  entreated  me  to  spare  Alick  even  if  I  did  it  at 
her  expense.  So  I  told  the  detectives  everything — every- 
thing !  They  know  as  much  about  it  as  you  do ;  for,  in 
Drusilla's  and  little  Lenny's  cause,  I  would  not  have  spared 
Alick,  to  have  saved  his  soul,  much  less  his  character." 

« And  did  these  skilful  and  experienced  officers  share 
in  your  suspicions  of  the  father's  complicity  in  the  ab- 
duction ?  " 

"No,  strangely  enough,  they  did  not.  These  people 
nave  a  noble  respect  for  a  lord — Heaven  save  the  mark  ! 
They  think  Lord  Killcrichtoun  would  never  have  stooped 
to  such  an  under-handed  act,  when  he  might  have  taken 
the  boy  with  the  high  hand  of  the  law." 

"Humph!  Did  they  suggest  anything  themselves? 
Having  told  you  what  didn't  become  of  the  boy,  did  they 
suggest  what  did?  " 

"Yes,  they  really  did!  they  suspected — just  imagine 
it, — that  the  child  had  been  stolen  for  the  sake  of  his 
clothes,  just  as  a  dog  is  sometimes  stolen  for  the  sake  of 
his  collar ! " 

"  Ah,  Anna,  I  phi  my  faith  on  the  experienced  officers. 
I  am  inclined  now  fully  to  exonerate  Alick  and  be  guided 
by  the  detectives.  Now  I  begin  to  see  light — now  I  un- 
derstand what  occurred  to  me  at  the  railway  station  I " 
said  Dick,  significantly. 

"<  What  occurred  to  you  at  the  railroad  station,'  Dick  ? 
Oh,  Dick !  what  was  that  ?  Anything  that  concerned 
little  Lenny  ?  "  eagerly  inquired  Anna. 

"  I  should  think  it  did  concern  little  Lenny.  As  truly 
as  I  live,  Anna,  when  I  reached  town  this  afternoon  and 
stepped  out  upon  the  platform,  and  while  I  was  looking 
around  for  a  cab,  I  heard  little  Lenny's  voice  calling  me ! " 

"  Oh,  Dick !    You  didn't !  " 

"  As  I  live  I  did  !  He  called  me  as  he  was  accustomed 
to  call  me—'  Dit !  Dit !  Oh,  Dit,  tome  here ! ' " 

"  Oh !  why  didn't  you  answer  him  ?  Why  didn't  you 
go  after  him  and  rescue  him  and  bring  him  home  ? — Per- 
haps you  did!  Perhaps  you  have  only  been  playing 


A  SHOCK.  297 

ignorance  to  tease  me  !  Oh,  Dick,  don't  do  it !  If  you 
have  got  little  Lenny,  tell  me  so !  "  said,  Anna,  earnestly, 
clasping  her  hands. 

"  My  poor  wife,  I  wish  for  your  sake  and  his  unhappy 
mother's,  that  I  had  the  boy  here ;  but  I  have  not.  Listen 

"  But  why  haven't  you  got  him  here !  If  you  heard  his 
dear  little  tongue  calling  you,  Dick,  why  in  the  world 
didn't  you  fly  to  him  and  seize  him  and  bring  him  home 
to  his  almost  distracted  mother!  Why  didn't  you, 
Dick  ? "  demanded  Anna,  ready  to  cry  with  an  accession 
of  vexation. 

"  My  darling  Anna,  listen  to  me,  will  you?  In  the  first 
place  not  having  received  your  telegram,  I  had  no  sus- 
picion whatever  that  Lenny  was  lost,  else  of  course  I 
should  have  been  on  the  qut  vive  to  find  him,  and  should 
have  followed  the  voice  until  I  should  have  got  possession 
of  him.  But  when  I  first  heard  him  calling  me  in  his 
strong,  cheerful,  peremptory  little  tones,  I  looked  around, 
fully  expecting  to  see  you,  Drusilla,  the  boy  and  his  nurse 
all  come  out  hi  force  to  meet  me  at  the  station.  But 
when  I  failed  to  see  little  Lenny  or  any  of  you,  I  con- 
sidered myself  the  victim  of  an  auricular  illusion." 

«  But  you  do  not  now  ?" 

"  No,  indeed.  I  feel  sure  it  was  Lenny  whom  I  heard, 
calling  me.  And  since  you  have  told  me  of  the  abduction 
and  of  the  detective  policeman's  theory  of  it,  I  recall  to 
mind  the  figure  of  a  disreputable  looking  woman  with  a 
child  in  her  arms  hurrying  out  of  sight  in  among  the 
crowd.  I  remember  that  the  woman's  back  was  towards 
me  and  that  a  shawl  was  thrown  over  the  child's  head. 
I  had  but  a  glimpse  of  them  as  they  slipped  into  the 
crowd." 

"  Oh,  Dick !  Dick  !  if  you  had  but  known !  What  a 
fatality ! " 

"  It  was  indeed.  But  now  I  must  go  and  give  this 
information  into  Scotland  Yard,  that  the  detectives  may 
institute  a  thorough  search  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
railway  station  where  I  saw  him." 

"Shall  I  tell  Drusilla?" 

"  Well,  let  me  see : — No,  not  just  yet.  I  must  think 
about  it  first.  It  might  increase  her  anxiety." 


298  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  But  it  would  assure  her  that  her  child  is  alive  and 
well  and  in  the  city." 

u  Yes ;  that  is  true.  Yet  you  better  not  tell  her  until 
nay  return.  She  would  be  consumed  with  anxiety  to  see 
the  one  who  had  really  seen  and  heard  little  Lenny,  and  to 
hear  from  him  all  about  it.  Don't  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Of  course  ;  but  don't  be  gone  long,  Dick.  Hurry  back 
as  fast  as  you  can,  and  perhaps  you  may  get  here  as  soon 
as  she  does." 

"  I  will  lose  no  time." 

"  But  you  are  just  off  a  journey.  Won't  you  take  some- 
thing before  you  go  ?  " 

"  No,  Anna ;  I  will  wait  until  I  get  back,"  answered 
Richard  Hammond,  as  he  arose  and  left  the  room. 

Leaving  Anna  pacing  the  floor  in  great  excitement  and 
impatience,  he  went  down  to  the  street,  threw  himself 
into  a  hansom  and  drove  immediately  to  Scotland  Yard. 

There  he  made  his  report,  and  offered  from  his  own 
means  an  additional  reward  to  accelerate  the  motions  of 
the  officers. 

He  hurried  back  to  the  Morley  House  and  up  to  the 
drawing-room,  where  he  found  Anna  still  pacing  the  floor. 

She  turned  suddenly  around  to  meet  him. 

"  I  have  started  them  on  the  new  scent,  dear,"  he  said, 
throwing  himself  wearily  into  a  chair. 

"  And  you  are  here,  as  I  hoped,  before  Drusilla  has 
returned ;  so  she  will  not  have  to  wait  for  her  news." 

As  Anna  spoke  there  was  the  sound  of  a  cab  drawing 
up  before  the  house.  A  few  minutes  after  Drusilla  entered 
the  room.  Her  face  was  deadly  white  and  her  eyes  had 
that  wild,  wide  open,  sleepless  look  seldom  seen  except  in 
the  insane.  And  yet  Drusilla,  in  all  her  agony  of  mind 
was  far  as  possible  from  insanity.  All  her  anxieties  were 
marked  by  forecast,  reason,  judgment. 

Dick  arose,  and  his  countenance  and  gestures  were  full 
of  sympathy  as  he  held  out  his  hands  and  went  to  meet 
her. 

"  Oh,  Dick  !  Dick  !  you  have  heard  of  my  great  loss," 
she  said,  putting  her  hands  in  his. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Drusilla,"  he  answered,  in  a  voice  shak- 
ing with  the  pity  that  nearly  broke  his  heart,  as  he  looked 
upon  her  great  misery. 


A  SHOCK.  299 

«  Oh,  my  Lenny !  my  Lenny !  Oh,  my  poor  little  two- 
year  old  baby  !  "  she  cried,  breaking  into  sobs  and  totter- 
ing on  her  feet. 

Dick  caught  her  and  tenderly  placed  her  in  a  chair  and. 
stooped  before  and  took  her  hands  again,  saying : 

"  Dear  Drusa,  your  little  Lenny  will  be  found,  he  will 
indeed,  my  dear." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  so !  I  believe  so  ! — but  this  suspense  is 
the  most  awful  anguish  in  life  !  Oh,  where  is  he  now  f 
Jttow  at  this  moment,  where  is  my  poor  little  helpless 
babe  ?  In  whose  hands  ?  Suffering  what  ? 

Her  look  as  she  said  this  was  so  full  of  unutterable  sor- 
row that  Dick  could  restrain  himself  no  longer. 

"  Dear  Drusa,  dear  Drusa,"  he  said  holding  her  hands. 
"  your  child,  wherever  he  is,  is  not  suffering ;  he  is  well 
and  cheerful.  I  know  it." 

She  looked  up  suddenly  as  a  wild  joy  flashed  over  her 
face,  for  she  had  sprung  to  a  too  natural  conclusion. 

"  Oh,  Dick,  you  have  found  him !  You  have  found  my 
boy  !  Oh,  tell  me  so  at  once !  Oh,  don't  try  to  break  such 
news  to  me  as  that  is  !  Joyful  news  may  be  told  at  once ! 
it  never  kills !  And  now  you  see  I  know  you  have  found 
my  baby !  Oh,  bring  him  to  me  at  once !  Where  is  he  ? 
In  my  room  ?  " 

She  had  spoken  rapidly  and  breathlessly,  and  now  she- 
started  up  to  hurry  to  her  chamber,  expecting  to  find  her 
child  there. 

Dick  gently  stopped  her. 

«  Dear  Drusilla,  I  have  not  got  your  child.  I  wish  I 
had,"  he  began,  with  his  hand  on  her  arm. 

The  look  of  joy  vanished  from  her  face.  It  had  been 
but  a  lightning  flash  across  the  night  of  her  sorrow,  and 
now  it  had  passed  and  left  the  darkness  still  there. 

"  Oh,  Dick  !  "  she  groaned,  covering  her  face  with  he* 
hands  and  sinking  again  into  her  seat. 

"  But,  Drusilla,  dear,  I  have  a  clue  to  him !  I  have  in- 
deed !  And  I  know  that  he  is  alive  and  well  and  cheer- 
ful." 

"  Oh,  Dick,  is  this  so  ?  Oh,  Dick,  I  know  you  wouldn't 
deceive  me,  even  for  my  own  comfort,  would  you  now^ 
Dick  ?  "  she  pleaded. 

«  Heaven  knows  I  would  not,  Drusilla.    Your  child  wa* 


300  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

alive  and  well  at  five  o'clock  this  afternoon — only  two 
hours  ago,  for  it  is  now  only  seven.  And  though  you  can- 
not now  find  him  in  your  chamber,  you  need  not  be  sur- 
prised at  any  future  hour-to  find  him  there." 

"  Alive  and  well  two  hours  ago  !     You  are  sure,  Dick  ?  " 

u  Sure  as  I  am  of  my  own  lifa." 

w  Where  was  he,  then?  Who  saw  him?  Who  told 
you  ?  " 

u  He  was  at  the  railway  station  in  the  arms  of  a  poor 
Woman.  I  saw  him,  and  /heard  him." 

"  Oh,  Dick,  why  did  you  not  bring  him  to  me  at  once  ?  " 

w  Dear  Drusilla,  I  did  not  then  know  that  he  was  lost. 
I  had  just  stepped  from  the  carriage  to  the  platform,  when 
I  heard  little  Lenny's  voice  calling  me  in  a  strong,  chirp- 
ing, authoritative  little  tone, « Dit !  Dit !  tome  here  ! '  And  I 
looked  around,  expecting  to  see  him  and  all  of  you  come 
to  meet  me.  But  I  saw  nothing  of  any  of  you.  I  only  saw 
a  poor  woman  with  a  child  about  Lenny's  age  and  size 
covered  with  a  shawl  and  in  her  arms.  Her  back  was 
towards  me,  and  she  was  hurrying  away  through  the 
crowd.  That  child  Was  little  Lenny,  though  I  did  not 
know  it  or  even  suspect  it  at  the  time  ;  for  I  only  glanced 
at  him  and  turned  to  look  for  little  Lenny  elsewhere,  ex- 
pecting to  find  him  with  his  nurse.  When  I  failed  to  do 
so,  I  thought  I  had  been  the  subject  of  an  ocular  illusion. 
But  when  I  came  home  here,  and  learned  that  little  Len- 
ny was  lost,  I  understood  the  whole  thing.  And  I  went 
immediately  to  Scotland  Yard  and  gave  the  information 
and  set  the  detectives  on  the  fresh  scent.  They  are  as 
keen  as  bloodhounds,  you  know,  and  they  will  be  sure  to 
find  your  child.  So  you  need  not  be  surprised  to  see  him 
brought  in  and  laid  upon  your  lap  at  any  moment." 

Another  lightning  flash  of  joy  passed  over  her  face  at 
this  announcement. 

"  Oh,  Dick  !  Dick !  you  give  me  new  life  !  You  saw  my 
child  two  hours  ago !  Did  you  see  his  face  ?  "  she  eagerly 
inquired. 

"Of  course  not,  else  I  should  have  claimed  him  and 
brought  him  home.  He  was  covered  with  a  shawl,  I  tell 
you,  and  hurried  through  the  crowd.  I  did  not  know  he 
was  Lenny  till  afterwards." 

"  But  you  heard  his  voice,  and  you  knew  that  ?  " 


A  SHOCK.  301 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  knew  his  voice ;  but  I  did  not  at  the  moment 
know  where  the  voice  came  from." 

"  Oh,  Dick,  what  was  it  he  said  ?  dear  little  Lenny  !  tell 
me  again." 

Dick  repeated  the  words. 

"  And  oh,  Dick,  did  he  speak  sadly,  piteously,  imploring- 
ly as  if  he  was  suffering,  and  wanted  you  to  relieve  him  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed !  quite  the  contrary !  he  hailed  me  in 
his  usual  hearty  manner ;  and  commanded  me  to  come  to 
him,  just  as  he  is  accustomed  to  speak  to  all  of  us,  his 
slaves,  when  he  is  lording  it  over  us  and  ordering 
us  around,"  said  Dick,  so  cheerfully  that  he  called  up  a 
wan  smile  upon  the  poor  young  mother's  face. 

"  Now,  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it,  Drusilla,"  pursued 
Dick  confidently.  "  The  fact  is,  the  child  must  have 
been  stolen  first,  for  the  sake  of  the  fine  lace  and  gold 
and  coral  on  his  dress ;  and  now  he  is  kept  for  his  beauty 
to  beg  with.  No  doubt,  now  that  the  clue  is  found,  he 
will  be  recovered  in  a  few  hours.  And  I  want  you  to 
bear  this  fact  in  mind — that  you  need  not  be  surprised  at 
any  moment  to  see  your  child  brought  in  and  laid  upon 
your  lap.  Keep  that  hope  before  you,  and  let  it  support 
your  soul  through  this  suspense,  and  let  it  prepare  you 
for  the  event,  so  that  you  may  not  die  of  joy  when  it 
comes,"  said  Richard  Hammond. 

And  certainly  he  believed  himself  justified  in  giving 
this  advice. 

"  Dick  !  dear  Dick,  you  have  brought  the  first  crumb  of 
earthly  comfort  that  has  come  to  me  since  I  lost  my  little 
Lenny,"  said  Drusilla,  gratefully.  "  But  where  is  uncle  ?  " 
she  asked,  suddenly  recollecting  the  General. 

"  He  is  detained  by  some  business. 

«  He  is  quite  well  ?  " 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Dick,  cheerfully. 

"  And  now  I  hope  you  will  be  willing  to  stay  at  home 
and  rest  just  one  evening,  dear  Drusilla,"  added  Anna. 

"  Oh,  don't  ask  me  to  do  that,  dear  Anna  !  How  could  I 
stay  home  in  inactivity,  especially  now  that  I  know  where 
to  look  for  him  ?  No,  I  will  drive  down  to  that  neighbor- 
hood in  which  he  was  seen,  and  I  will  search  for  him 
there,"  answered  Drusilla,  firmly  and  very  cheerfully,  iof 
hope  had  come  into  her  heart  again. 


302  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  And  Anna  and  myself  will  go  with  you,  my  dear 
Drusa,  for  we  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  devote  ourselves 
to  your  service  uiitil  your  child  shall  be  found,"  said  Dick, 
affectionately. 

"  Then  I  shall  order  tea  at  once,  and  something  substan- 
tial along  with  it,"  said  Anna,  rising. 

Inspired  by  the  new  hope  brought  to  her  by  Dick,  Dru- 
silla's  spirits  rose. 

When  tea  was  placed  upon  the  table,  with  the  "  some- 
thing substantial"  promised  by  Anna,  Drusilla  was  able  to 
join  the  party  and  even  to  partake  of  the  refreshment. 

Afterwards,  accompanied  by  her  two  friends,  she  got 
into  a  cab  and  drove  to  the  railway  station  where  Dick 
had  seen  little  Lenny  in  the  arms  of  the  strange  woman. 

There  they  drove  up  and  down  the  streets  and  roads 
and  in  and  out  among  the  lanes,  and  alleys  and  inquired  at 
many  shops  and  houses  for  such  a  woman  and  child,  but 
they  neither  found  nor  heard  of  one  or  the  other. 

To  be  sure,  there  were  many  poor  beggar  women,  and 
many  little  two-year-old  children;  but  they  did  not 
answer  to  the  description  of  little  Lenny  and  his  strange 
bearer. 

They  also  found  their  coadjutors,  the  detective  police- 
men, in  the  same  neighborhood,  upon  the  same  search. 
The  detectives  had  had  as  yet  no  better  success  than 
their  employers ;  but  their  hopes  were  high  and  their 
words  encouraging. 

They  had  great  sympathy  for  the  bereaved  and  anxious 
young  mother,  and  they  came  to  her  carriage  door  with 
expressions  full  of  confidence. 

"  We  shall  be  sure  to  find  the  little  gentleman  now,  my 
lady.  Now  when  we  know  where  to  look  for  him.  It  is 
a  downright  certainty,  you  know.  Why,  Lord  love  you, 
sir,  there  ain't  a  woman  is  this  neighborhood  as  has  heard 
about  the  child  that  ain't  as  interested  in  the  search  as  we 
are,  and  out  of  downright  human  motherly  feeling  too,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  hope  of  getting  the  reward.  Bless 
.you,  my  lady,  take  heart,  and  don't  you  be  taken  by 
surprise  any  time  to  see  me  walk  in  and  put  your  little 
boy  in  your  arms.  And  if  I  might  be  so  bold,  ma'am,  I 
would  recommend  you  to  persuade  her  to  go  home  and 
.go  to  her  rest  and  leave  us  to  follow  up  the  clue,  and  just 


A  SHOCK.  303 

have  faith  till  I  bring  the  young  gentleman  home,"  said 
the  detective,  with  his  head  in  the  door,  and  addressing- 
in  turn  the  three  occupants  of  the  carriage. 

"  That  is  what  I  am  telling  her,"  said  Dick,  "  to  wait 
patiently  ;  or,  if  she  can't  do  that,  to  wait  hopefully  until 
her  child  is  brought  home  and  laid  on  her  lap." 

"  And  now,  it  is  so  late,  and  you  have  lost  so  much  rest, 
Brasilia,  dear,  that  I  do  think  you  had  better  go  back,  and 
lie  down  even  if  you  cannot  sleep,"  said  Anna,  earnestly. 

"  Friends,  you  are  so  kind  to  me  and  so  interested  in 
my  child's  recovery,  that  I  owe  it  to  you  to  follow  your 
advice.  So  I  will  put  myself  in  your  hands  at  least  for 
this  evening,"  answered  Brasilia. 

"  That  is  right,  that  is  right,  my  dear,"  said  Bick. 

"  And,  my  lady,  take  this  truth  with  you  to  comfort  you, 
— that  we  will  never  give  up  the  search  until  we  find  the 
child.  We  will  never  give  it  up  by  night  or  by  day  till 
we  find  him.  While  some  of  us  gets  our  needful  bit  of 
food  or  nap  of  sleep,  the  others  will  be  pursuing  of  the 
search  till  we  find  him.  And  when  we  do  find  him,  my 
lady,  be  it  midnight,  or  noonday,  or  any  other  hour  of  the 
twenty-four  I  will  bring  him  to  you,"  said  the  officer, 
earnestly. 

"  Oh,  do,  do,  do !  and  you  shall  have  half  my  fortune  for 
your  pains — the  whole  of  it,  if  you  will,  and  my  eternal 
gratitude  besides  ! "  exclaimed  Brasilia  fervently  clasping 
her  hands. 

"  My  lady,  the  reward  offered  in  the  hand-bills  would 
set  me  up  for  life ;  and,  though  that  is  a  great  object,  and 
was  my  only  object  at  first,  it  is  not  now — it  is  not  indeed ! 
I  am  most  anxious  to  find  the  young  gentleman,  to  give 
you  peace — I  am  indeed." 

"  I  believe  you,  and  I  thank  and  bless  you,"  said  Bra- 
silia. 

And  then  the  policeman  touched  his  hat,  and  closed  the 
door,  and  transmitted  Mr.  Hammond's  order  to  the  cab- 
man. 

"  Home." 

They  drove  back  to  the  Morley  House. 

And  there  Bick  and  Anna  made  Brasilia  take  a  glass, 
of  port  wine  and  a  biscuit,  and  go  to  bed. 

All  arose  very  early  the  next  morning.    Anna  ordered 


304:  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

the  breakfast,  that  it  might  be  ready  when  Brasilia 
should  come  down. 

Dick  soon  joined  her. 

u  You  will  write  to  grandpa,  to-day  ?  "  inquired  Anna. 

"  Not  unless  little  Lenny  is  found.  T.  dread  the  effect 
the  news  of  the  child's  loss  would  have  upon  him  at 
his  age,  and  I  wish  to  spare  him  if  possible,"  answered 
Dick. 

**  But  if  Lenny  is  not  found  to-day,  and  grandpa  gets 
no  letter  to-morrow,  he  will  feel  very  anxious  at  not  hear- 
ing from  us." 

"  I  know  it.  I  must  think  of  some  plan  by  which  I  can 
write  to  him  without  alarming  him,  and  bring  him  home 
here,  before  telling  him  of  our  loss.  Here  we  might  break 
the  news  to  him  gently ;  and,  if  it  should  overcome  him, 
here,  we  can  look  after  him.  I  will  think  of  some  such 
plan  and  act  upon  it,  to-day,"  said  Dick,  anxiously  and 
reflectively. 

While  the  husband  and  wife  took  counsel  together, 
the  door  opened,  and  Drusilla,  dressed  as  for  a  drive, 
came  in. 

"  Good  morning,  my  dear !  Did  you  sleep  last  night  ?  " 
anxiously  inquired  Anna. 

«  A  little." 

"  But  you  are  not  going  out  until  you  have  breakfasted, 
my  dear  Drusilla?"  said  Dick. 

"  I  have  been  out  for  the  last  three  hours,  and  have 
just  returned,"  she  answered. 

tt  Good  Heaven,  Drusilla,  you  will  destroy  your  life,  and 
all  to  no  purpose !  The  detectives  are  all  sufficient  for 
this  business.  You  cannot  help  them,"  urged  Anna. 

"  I  know  it ;  but  I  cannot  rest,"  replied  Drusilla. 

"  You  have  been  to  the  same  neighborhood  ?  You  have 
seen  the  officers  this  morning  ?  "  inquired  Dick. 

«  Yes." 

"  Any  news  ?  " 

tt  None ;  but  the  men  give  me  great  hopes,  and  I  must 
trust  in  God." 

tt  Now,  Drusilla,  don't  go  up-stairs,"  said  Anna.  "  Take 
off  your  bonnet  and  shawl  here,  for  here  is  the  waiter, 
with  our  breakfast." 

Drusilla  complied  with  this  advice.      And  they  were 


A  SHOCK.  305 

about  to  sit  down  to  the  table,  when  there  was  heard  a 
hurried  step  upon  the  stairs,  and  the  door  was  thrown 
open,  and  old  General  Lyon,  dusty,  travel-stained,  pale 
and  excited,  burst  into  the  room. 

"  Is  THE  CHILD  FOUND  ? "  he  cried  to  the  astonished 
circle. 

«  No ;  but  we  have  a  clue  to  him,"  answered  Dick,  as 
soon  as  he  could  recover  his  self-possession  and  his 
breath. 

The  old  man  sank  into  a  chair,  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands,  and  shook  as  with  an  ague  fit. 

Anna  hastily  poured  out  a  cup  of  coffee  and  brought  it 
to  him. 

« Drink  this,  dear  grandpa,  and  you  will  feel  better," 
she  said. 

The  old  man  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  her. 

"  How  do  you  do,  my  dear  ?  I  really  forgot  to  speak  to 
you,"  he  said. 

"  Never  mind  that,  dear  sir.  I  am  very  well.  Drink 
this.  It  will  do  you  good,"  she  urged. 

«  You  say  you  have  a  clue  to  him  ?  "  he  inquired,  as  he 
mechanically  took  the  cup  from  her  hand. 

"Yes,  grandpa." 

tt  Why  is  not  the  clue  followed  up  ?  Why  has  it  not 
led  you  to  him  ? 

"  Indeed,  it  is  being  very  diligently  followed  up.  We 
are  in  hourly  expectation  of  recovering  our  little  Lenny. 
But,  dear  sir,  please  to  drink  your  coffee.  You  are  very 
faint,  and  need  it  very  much." 

"  Where  is  the  poor  young  mother  ?  Where  is  Drusa  ?  " 
he  continued. 

Drusilla  came  and  knelt  down  by  his  side,  and  took  his 
disengaged  hand,  and  looked  up  in  his  troubled  face  and 
said : 

M  She  is  here,  dear  uncle  ;  and  she  trusts  in  the  Lord  to 
restore  her  child.  But  you  are  sinking  with  fatigue,  and 
with  fasting  too,  I  fear.  Drink  your  coffee,  and  we  will 
tell  you  all  we  know  about  our  missing  boy." 

And  Drusilla  put  a  great  constraint  upon  herself  that 
she  might  comfort  him. 

At  her  request  he  took  the  refreshment  offered  to  him, 
and  was  certainly  benefited  by  it. 


306  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

And  they  told  him  all  the  particulars  of  little  Lenny's 
abduction,  and  of  the  measures  that  had  been  taken  for 
his  recovery. 

But  when  he  heard  of  Dick's  adventure  at  the  railroad 
station,  he  came  down  most  unmercifully  on  that  "  un- 
lucky dog." 

"  You  heard  his  voice  calling  you  and  didn't  go  aftei 
him  ! "  he  indignantly  exclaimed. 

It  was  in  vain  that  poor  Dick  explained  and  expounded ; 
the  old  man  would  hear  of  no  excuses. 

"  Sir !  do  you  think  if  I  had  heard  that  helpless  infant's 
voice  calling  me,  I  would  not  have  obeyed  it  with  more 
promptitude  than  I  ever  obeyed  the  commands  of  my 
superior  officer  when  I  was  in  the  army  ?  What  can  you 
say  for  yourself?  " 

Dick  had  no  word  to  say  why  sentence  of  death  should 
not  be  immediately  pronounced  on  him. 

But  Drusilla  came  to  his  relief  by  turning  the  conver- 
sation and  inquiring : 

"  Dear  uncle,  how  was  it  that  you  heard  of  little 
Lenny's  being  lost  ?  " 

"  By  the  newspapers,  of  course.  I  was  sitting  by  the 
bedside  of " 

Here  Dick  trod  slyly  upon  his  uncle's  toe. 

The  General  stopped  short. 

Drusilla  perceived  that  there  was  a  secret  between 
them  that  must  be  kept ;  so,  without  suspecting  that  it 
concerned  herself  or  her  Alick,  she  respected  it,  and 
turned  away  her  head  until  the  General  recovered  himself 
sufficiently  to  pursue  the  subject  in  another  manner. 

"  You  asked  me  how  I  learned  little  Lenny's  loss,  my 
dear.  Well,  yesterday  morning  I  was  sitting  by  the  bed- 
side of  a  friend  whom  I  had  undertaken  to  look  after, 
when  the  morning  papers  were  brought  to  me,  and  I  saw 
the  advertisement.  That  was  at  nine  o'clock.  There 
was  a  boat  left  at  ten  for  Southampton,  and  I  took  it  and 
reached  port  at  midnight,  I  took  the  first  train  for  Lon- 
don and  got  here  this  morning." 

Such  was  the  General's  explanation,  given  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Drusilla. 

It  was  not  until  after  they  had  all  breakfasted,  and  he 
found  himself  in  his  own  bedroom  alone  with  Dick,  that 


ALEXANDER  STRIKES  A  LIGHT.  307 

he  was  able  to  make  a  report  upon  Alick's  condition — a 
report  that  Dick  subsequently  transmitted  to  Anna. 

"  Well,  his  condition  is  even  more  precarious  than  when 
you  left  him ;  irritative  fever  has  set  in,  and  he  is  delirious 
— or  was  so  when  I  left  him.  He  had  not  once  recognized 
me.  I  know  the  surgeon  thinks  him  in  a  very  dangerous 
condition ;  although,  of  course,  he  will  not  admit  so 
much  to  me.  But  oh,  Dick !  the  child  !  the  child  ! " 

"  Be  comforted,  sir.  The  child  was  safe  and  well  in 
this  city  yesterday.  We  have  the  most  skilful  and  ex- 
perienced detectives  hi  the  world  searching  for  him,  and 
they  will  be  sure  to  succeed." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

ALEXANDER  STRIKES  A  LIGHT. 

"  A  death-bed's  a  detector  of  the  heart." 

So  is  a  sick  bed.  A  man  may  have  passed  through  the 
greatest  college  in  the  world  and  carried  off  its  highest 
honors;  may  have  traveled  over  every  foot  of  land 
and  sea ;  may  have  learned  all  else  that  this  earth  has  to 
teach  him — yet  if  he  has  never  had  a  good,  dangerous, 
rallying  spell  of  illness,  his  education  has  been  neglected. 

Alexander  Lyon  had  been  a  strong,  arrogant,  despotic 
man,  and  not  from  any  internal  force  of  the  spirit,  but 
by  the  external  support  of  great  physical  strength,  sound 
health  and  large  wealth.  Of  the  reverses  of  these  he  had 
no  experience  in  his  own  person,  and  not  enough  of  sym- 
pathy with  others  to  realize  them  to  his  own  imagination. 
Poverty,  sickness,  death,  were  to  him  abstract  ideas.  H6 
had  no  personal  knowledge  of  them. 

True,  he  had  lost  both  his  parents  by  death  ;  but  they 
were  very  aged;  and  his  father  had  died  in  an  instant, 
like  a  man  called  away  on  a  hasty  journey ;  and  his  mother 
had  followed,  after  a  short  illness ;  and  their  decease 
had  left  upon  his  mind  the  impression  of  absence  rather 
than  of  death. 

Certainly,  within  a  few  hours  before  his  duel  he  had 
been  forced  to  think  of  his  own  possible  death,  but  it  was 


308  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

as  of  a  sudden  and  violent  catastrophe,  which  in  his 
great  excitement  he  was  desperate  enough  to  brave  and 
meet. 

But  he  never  imagined  being  wounded  and  mutilated, 
and  laid  helpless  and  languishing  on  a  bed  of  weakness 
and  pain. 

Yet  here  he  was. 

On  the  third  day  after  that  upon  which  he  had  been 
wounded,  an  irritative  fever  set  in,  and  from  having  been 
stupid  and  quiet  he  became  delirious  and  violent. 

General  Lyon  had  left  him,  as  we  have  seen. 

And  Francis  Tredegar  had  also,  soon  after,  gone  to  Lon- 
don on  imperative  business. 

And  Alexander  was  now  in  the  hands  of  the  skilful  sur- 
geon whom  the  magnanimity  of  Prince  Ernest  had  placed 
hi  attendance  upon  him.  And  the  surgeon  was  assisted 
by  the  valet  Simms  and  by  the  servants  of  the  hotel. 

For  eight  terrible  days  the  wounded  man  burned  with 
fever  and  raved  with  frenzy.  For  eight  days,  within  his 
broken  and  agonized  frame,  an  almost  equal  struggle  be- 
tween the  forces  of  life  and  death  went  on.  But,  by  the 
aid  of  his  strong  constitution  and  of  his  skilful  surgeon, 
life  at  length  prevailed  over  death. 

It  \vas  about  the  dawn  of  the  critical  ninth  day,  that 
the  fever  finally  left  him. 

The  surgeon,  who,  on  that  particular  night,  had  watched 
by  his  bed,  was  the  first  to  perceive  the  signs  of  reviving 
life,  in  the  moisture  of  the  sleeper's  hands  and  the  moder- 
ated pulsations  at  his  wrists. 

"  The  imminent  danger  is  over  now.  He  will  live  and 
recover, — unless  he  should  have  a  relapse,  which  we  must 
try  to  prevent,"  said  Doctor  Dietz  to  Simms,  the  valet, 
who  had  shared  his  watch. 

Simms,  who,  for  the  last  nine  days,  had  never  once  been 
in  bed,  but  had  snatched  his  sleep  when,  where,  and  how 
he  could, — sitting,  standing,  and  even  walking — yawned 
frightfully,  and  said  he  was  glad  to  hear  it,  and  asked  if 
he  might  now  lie  down. 

The  surgeon  told  him  that  he  might  not ;  that  yet,  for 
a  few  hours,  he  must  watch  beside  his  master ;  afterwards, 
when  his  master  should  awake,  he  (the  man)  should  be 
relieved. 


ALEXANDER  STRIKES  A  LIGHT.  3Q9 

And,  so  saying,  the  surgeon  went  away,  to  get  some 
sleep  for  himself. 

And  Simms  lay  back  in  the  best  easy-chair,  just  vacated 
by  Doctor  Dietz,  and  stretched  his  feet  out  on  the  best 
footstool,  and  closed  his  eyes  in  slumber. 

And  the  only  watcher  beside  the  wounded  man  was 
the  All-seeing  Eye. 

But  all  the  danger  was  over, — the  fever  was  cooled,  the 
frenzy  calmed,  and  the  patient  slept  on, — all  the  more 
quietly,  perhaps,  because  his  attendant  slept  also  and  the 
room  was  so  still. 

It  was,  I  said,  just  at  the  dawn  of  day  and  about  four 
o'clock,  when  Doctor  Dietz  pronounced  the  crisis  favor- 
ably passed,  and  then  left  him. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  surgeon  returned  to  the  sick-room, 
where  he  found  both  master  and  man  still  asleep. 

Without  waking  Simms,  he  went  around  to  the  other 
side  of  the  bed,  and  examined  the  state  of  Alexander. 
His  former  opinion  was  now  confirmed.  The  patient  was 
sleeping  calmly  and  breathing  softly.  His  pulse  was  regu- 
lar and  quiet,  and  his  skin  cool  and  moist. 

"  It  is  a  decided  convalescence,"  said  the  surgeon  to 
himself. 

And  then,  fearing  to  wake  up  the  attendant  lest  he 
should  disturb  the  patient,  the  doctor  himself  went  about 
on  tiptoes,  putting  out  the  night  taper,  opening  the  win- 
dows, and  setting  the  room  somewhat  in  order. 

Then  he  went  down-stairs  to  get  his  own  breakfast 
and  to  order  some  proper  nourishment  to  be  prepared  for 
the  wounded  man  to  take  as  soon  as  he  should  awake. 

"When  he  again  returned  to  the  room  he  found  Simme 
awake  and  sitting  upright  in  the  chair. 

The  doctor  raised  his  finger  to  warn  the  valet  not  to  speak 
or  make  a  noise,  lest  he  should  disturb  the  sleeper  and 
then  signed  him  to  leave  the  room. 

And  the  valet  gladly  took  himself  away. 

Doctor  Dietz  seated  himself  beside  his  patient  to  watch 
for  his  awakening.  As  it  is  neither  useful  nor  entertain- 
ing to  sit  and  stare  a  sleeper  in  the  face,  the  surgeon  took 
o\it  a  newspaper  from  his  pocket  and  began  to  read,  lift- 
ing his  eyes  occasionally  to  look  at  his  charge.  But  at 
length  he  got  upon  several  columns  of  highly  interesting 


310  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

editorial  treating  upon  the  politics  of  Prussia,  and  he  be- 
came so  absorbed  in  the  subject  that  he  read  on,  forget- 
ting to  glance  at  his  patient  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes. 
He  might  have  gone  on  for  thirty  or  forty  minutes  more 
without  lifting  his  eyes  from  the  paper  had  he  not  heard 
his  name  whispered. 

With  a  slight  start  he  turned  and  looked  at  his  charge. 

Alexander  Lyon  was  lying  awake  and  calmly  contem- 
plating his  physician. 

Doctor  Dietz  dropped  his  paper  and  bent  over  his 
charge. 

"  You  are  better  ?  "  he  said,  quietly. 

Alexander  nodded. 

"  How  do  you  feel  ?  " 

«  Weak." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  awake  ?  " 

"Two — or  three — hours — I  think.  I  don't  know," 
whispered  Alick,  feebly  and  with  pain  and  difficulty. 

"  Oh  no  !  "  said  the  surgeon,  taking  out  his  watch  and 
consulting  it — "  not  near  so  long  as  that,  though  it  may 
seem  so  to  you ;  not  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes 
at  the  most." 

And  Doctor  Dietz  put  up  his  watch  and  took  hold  of 
the  wrist  of  his  charge. 

"  I've — been  ill — long — long,"  whispered  Alick,  looking 
up  from  his  dark,  hollow,  cavernous  eyes. 

"  No  ;  there  again  you  are  mistaken.  You  have  been 
down  little  more  than  a  week.  But  it  is  always  so  when 
there  has  been  a  period  of  semi-consciousness.  The  patient 
loses  all  calculation  of  time,  and  on  recovery  either  fancies 
that  no  time  at  all,  or  else  a  very  long  period,  has  elapsed 
during  his  illness.  But  now  listen  to  me.  You  are  very 
much  better,  and  you  are  on  the  high  road  to  a  speedy  re- 
covery. But  you  must  not,  as  yet,  exert  yourself  at  all. 
You  must  not  even  speak,  except  when  to  do  so  is  ab- 
solutely necessary,  and  then  you  must  only  whisper. 
Whenever  you  can  answer  by  a  nod,  or  a  shake  of  the 
head,  or  whenever  you  can  make  your  wishes  known  by 
signs,  do  so,  instead  of  speaking.  You  must  spare  your 
lungs  as  much  as  possible.  If  you  follow  my  direction  in 
this  it  will  be  the  best  for  you.  Will  you  do  it  ?  Mind, 
nod,  if  you  mean  yes." 


ALEXANDER  STRIKES  A  LIGHT.  311 

Alexander  nodded. 

"That's  right.  And  now — do  you  feel  hungry  or 
thirsty  ? — Stop  !  don't  answer  that  question,  because  I 
didn't  ask  it  right,  and  you  can't  answer  it  without  speak- 
ing. I  will  put  it  in  another  form.  Do  you  feel  hungry  ?  " 

Alexander  nodded. 

«  And  thirsty  ?  " 

Alick  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  nodded. 

"Ah!  I  understand.  You  are  quite  sure  you  are 
hungry  ;  but  you  are  not  so  very  sure  that  you  are  thirsty. 
And  upon  the  whole  you  feel  as  if  you  would  like  some- 
thing to  eat  and  to  drink  as  well.  Just  as  we  all  feel 
about  breakfast  time,  eh  ?  " 

Alexander  nodded  and  smiled. 

"  Quite  right,"  said  the  surgeon. 

And  then  he  rang  the  bell. 

"Would  you  like  black  tea,  cream  toast,  and  poached 
eggs  ?  "  inquired  the  surgeon. 

He  was  answered  by  the  regulation  nod. 

The  waiter  came,  and  received  the  surgeon's  orders  to 
prepare  the  required  refreshments  and  to  send  the  valet 
to  the  room. 

And  when  Simms  entered,  and  while  waiting  for  the 
breakfast  to  be  prepared,  the  surgeon,  assisted  by  the 
valet,  changed  the  dressings  of  the  patient's  wounds,  and 
made  him  clean  and  fresh  and  comfortable,  so  that  he 
might  be  able  to  enjoy  the  delicate  repast  that  had  been 
ordered  for  him. 

After  his  change  of  clothes,  and  his  nourishing  break- 
fast, he  was  laid  down  again  upon  fresh  pillows,  and  his 
bed  was  tidied  and  his  room  darkened,  and  he  himself 
was  enjoined  to  rest. 

And  rest  was  of  vital  importance  to  him ;  for  though 
his  wounds  were  now  doing  well,  yet  the.  effort  to,  sjjeak, 
or  to  move,  was  stni  not  (wly  difficult  and  painful,  but 
very  injurious  and  even  dangerous  to  his  lacerated  chest. 
So  he  was  enjoined  to  rest. 

Rest? 

His  bed  was  fresh  and  fragrant,  and  on  it  there  might 
be  rest  for  the  pain-racked,  wearied  body.  But  what  rest 
could  there  be  for  the  newly  awakened  mind  and  startled 
conscience  ? 


312  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Lying  there  in  forced  inactivity,  in  his  half-darkened 
chamber,  unable  to  read,  forbidden  to  talk,  with  nothing 
to  engage  his  attention  without,  his  thoughts  were  driven 
inward  to  self-exainination.  He  struck  a  light  and  ex- 
plored the  gloomy  caverns  of  his  own  soul.  What  he 
found  there,  appalled  him.  There  were  devilish  furies, 
ferocious  beasts,  poisonous  reptiles,  gibbering  maniacs — 
these  were  the  forms  of  the  passions  that  had  possessed 
him,  that  still  possessed  him ;  but  they  were  lethargic  or 
sleeping  now.  Should  he — could  he  cast  them  entirely 
out  while  they  were  so  quiescent  ? 

And  there  were  their  victims  and  his  own — the  bleed- 
ing forms  of  wounded  love ;  the  fallen  image  of  dethroned 
honor ;  the  ghastly  skeletons  of  murdered  happiness. 

What  a  city  of  desolation,  what  a  valley  of  Gehenna, 
was  this  sin-darkened  soul ! 

He  groaned  so  deeply  that  the  surgeon  came  to  his  side. 

"  Where  is  your  pain  ?  " 

Alexander  shook  his  head ;  he  could  not  tell. 

The  surgeon  examined  the  wounds,  but  found  them 
doing  very  well ;  and  he  changed  their  dressings,  but  this 
did  not  seem  to  do  much  good. 

The  doctor  wondered  that  his  patient  still  suffered  so 
much.  He  could  not  understand  any  better  than  Mac- 
beth's  physician,  how  to  minister  to  "  a  mind  diseased." 

The  convalescence  of  the  wounded  man  was  not  nearly 
so  rapid  or  assured  as  his  surgeon  had  hoped  and  ex- 
pected. How  could  it  be,  when  he  was  so  haunted  by 
memory  and  tortured  conscience  ?  In  these  long  still  days 
and  nights  on  the  sick-bed  in  the  dark  chambers,  he  was 
forced  to  look  back  upon  his  own  life,  to  judge  his  own 
deeds.  What  had  they  been  ?  What  were  they  now  ? 
False  and  cruel  he  pronounced  the  one  and  the  others — 
false  and  cruel  his  deeds,  darkened  and  ruined  his  life. 

But  out  of  all  the  gloom  and  horror  shone  brightly 
one  form — holy  as  a  saint,  lovely  as  an  angel — the  form 
of  his  injured  wife.  Oh,  with  what  an  intense  and  vehe- 
ment longing  he  longed  for  her  presence  !  — longed  for 
it,  yet  feared  it — feared  it,  though  in  the  image  that  he 
saw  in  "  his  mind's  eye  "  the  whole  face  and  form  glowed 
aud  vibrated  with  compassion  and  benediction.  Bless- 
ing brightened  the  clear  brow;  pity  softened  the  dark 


ALEXANDER  STRIKES  A  LIGHT.  313 

eyes ;  love,  love  unutterable  curved  the  lines  of  the  crim- 
son lips. 

Was  it  strange  that  he  should  have  seen  her  only  hi  this 
light  ? 

Remember,  he  who  had  loved  her  and  made  her  happy, 
and  had  wronged  her  and  made  her  wretched — he  had  seen 
her  beautiful  face  beaming  with  heavenly  happiness,  or 
quivering  with  anxiety,  or  darkened  by  despair ;  but  he 
had  never — never  once  seen  it  distorted  by  passion. 

Oh,  how  he  longed  for  the  beautiful  vision  to  be  realized 
to  him — longed  and  feared  ! 

What  would  he  not  have  given  to  have  had  her  then  by 
his  bedside  ?  He  felt  how  soft  and  cool  her  fingers  would 
fall  upon  his  fevered  forehead ;  he  saw  how  lovingly  her 
eyes  would  look  on  him ;  he  heard  how  sweetly  her  tones 
would  soothe  him. 

Yet  it  was  not  for  all  this  he  wanted  her  at  his  side. 

It  was  that  he  might  make  what  atonement  was  yet  in 
his  power  for  the  wrongs  he  had  done  her ;  that  he  might 
lay  his  proud  manhood  low  at  the  feet  of  this  meek  girl, 
and  ask  her  pardon  ;  that  he  might  take  her  to  his  heart 
again,  and  devote  his  life  to  make  hers  happy. 

Oh,  that  he  might  do  her  some  great  service,  and  so  win 
her  back! 

He  wished  now  that  she  had  been  poor,  so  that  he  might 
have  enriched  her ;  or  sick,  so  that  he  might  have  taken 
her  all  over  the  world  for  her  health ;  or  that  she  had  had 
an  enemy,  so  that  he  might  have  killed  or  crippled  that 
enemy  and  dragged  him  to  her  feet.  And  here  one  of 
those  crouching  furies  stirred  again  in  his  heart,  and  a 
feverish  excitement  made  him  irrational. 

Oh,  that  she  were  poor,  or  ill,  or  abused,  that  he  might 
enrich  her,  or  serve  her,  or  defend  her,  and  so  win  the 
right  to  ask  her  forgiveness  ! 

But  she  was  none  of  these.  She  was  as  independent  of 
him  as  any  queen  could  be.  She  was  immensely  wealthy 
perfectly  healthy,  and  highly  esteemed ;  and,  finally,  no 
one  had  ever  abused  her  but  himself ;  and  on  himself  only 
could  he  take  vengeance.  He  was  an  utter  bankrupt, 
without  the  power  of  bringing  any  offering  to  her  feet  hi 
exchange  for  her  mercy. 

When  tortured  by  these  thoughts,  he  would  so  toss  and 


314  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

groan  as  to  raise  his  fever  and  inflame  his  wounds.  And 
all  this  very  much  protracted  his  recovery. 

And  through  all  this  gloom  and  horror  still  he  saw  the 
heavenly  vision,  like  Dante's  angel  at  the  gates  of  Hell, 
and  still  he  longed  to  have  it  realized  ;  longed,  yet  feared ; 
and  ever  he  prayed : 

"  Oh  !  that  I  could  do  her  some  great  service  !  Oh,  that 
the  Lord  would  take  pity  on  me  and  give  me  the  power  ! " 

Alexander,  among  his  other  thoughts,  of  course  thought 
of  the  duel  that  had  laid  him  upon  this  bed  of  penance. 

In  the  natural  reaction — the  calmness  that  succeeded  to 
the  excitement  of  his  passions,  when  reason  had  opportu- 
nity to  act — he  saw  that  he  had  no  just  cause  for  the  jeal- 
ousy that  had  driven  him  to  one  of  the  maddest  acts  of  his 
life. 

That  Prince  Ernest  should  have  admired  Brasilia  was 
not  only  natural  but  inevitable,  since  every  one  who  was 
brought  into  her  company  did  the  same  ;  that  he  should 
have  testified  this  admiration  with  continental  enthusiasm 
seemed  almost  excusable ;  but  that  his  sentiments  went 
further,  or  that  Drusilla  would  have  tolerated  any  atten- 
tions unworthy  to  be  received  by  her,  Alexander  in  his 
sober  senses  could  not  believe. 

Now  that  like  the  prodigal  of  Holy  Writ  he  had  come  to 
himself,  he  perceived  that  his  jealousy,  like  every  other 
passion  of  his  soul,  had  been  insane  in  its  excess  and  frantic 
in  its  exhibition. 

Now  how  fervently  he  thanked  Heaven  that  the  duel 
into  which  his  temporary  madness  had  driven  him  had  not 
resulted  in  death  to  his  adversary  and  blood-guiltiness  to 
himself. 

But — and  this  was  a  very  serious  question — how  had 
the  mad  duel  affected  Drusilla. 

It  was  always,  he  knew,  most  injurious,  even  to  the 
most  innocent  women,  to  have  her  name  mixed  up  in  any 
such  matter. 

He  himself  had  been  very  cautious  in  this  respect ;  but 
had  others  concerned  been  equally  so  ?  And,  above  all, 
had  the  duel  got  into  the  newspapers,  and,  if  so,  with  how 
much  exposure  of  the  circumstances  ? 

Of  course  he  could  not  tell.  He  longed  to  know ;  yet 
he  shrank  from  asking  questions.  He  would  have  ex- 


ALEXANDER'S  DISCOVERIES.  315 

amined  the  papers,  but  they  were  kept  out  of  his  way,  and 
he  was  forbidden  to  read. 

Thus  in  bitter  self-communings,  in  remorse,  in  suspense 
and  anxiety,  the  first  days  of  his  convalescence  slowly 
wore  away. 

Francis  Tredegar  had  not  returned  and  he  had  remained 
in  the  hands  of  the  surgeon  and  the  valet. 

And  although  he  was  debarred  from  reading  the  news- 
papers, and  forbidden  to  converse,  and  so  was  left  in 
ignorance  of  the  most  important  matters  that  concerned 
him,  yet  he  had  learned  something  of  what  had  transpired 
near  him  since  the  mad  duel. 

He  had  partly  surmised  and  partly  overheard  enough 
to  inform  him  that  Prince  Ernest,  a  frequent  invalid  him- 
self, had  at  some  self-sacrifice  dispensed  with  the  inval- 
uable services  of  his  own  medical  attendant,  that  he, 
Alexander,  might  have  the  advantage  of  that  surgeon's 
constant  presence  at  his  bedside.  And  this  circumstance 
led  Alexander  to  a  true  appreciation  and  respect  for  the 
Austrian,  who  was  as  noble  by  nature  as  he  was  by 
descent. 

And  there  was  something  else  he  had  to  learn. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

ALEXANDER'S  DISCOVERIES. 

Thou  turnest  mine  eyes  into  my  very  soul, 
And  there  I  see  such  black  and  grained  spots, 
As  will  not  leave  their  tinct.— SHAKESPEARE. 

morning  when  he,  Alick,  seemed  better  and 
stronger  that  usual,  the  surgeon  seated  himself  by  his 
bedside  and  said : 

"  I  should  tell  you  that  you  were  not  forgotten  or  aban- 
doned by  your  family  while  you  were  in  danger,  sir." 

u  By  my  family !  I  have "  Alexander  was 

about  to  say,  "  no  family,"  but  he  caught  himself  in  time. 

Come  what  might,  he  would  not  deny  Drusilla  and  her 
child. 

— "  You  have  an  uncle  and  a  cousin,  sir,"  said  the  sur- 
geon, finishing  Alexander's  sentence,  but  not  in  the  man- 


316  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Tier  Alexander  had  first  intended — "  an  uncle  and  a  cousin, 
sir,  who  were  warmly  interested  in  your  welfare.  Gen- 
eral Lyon  and  Mr.  Hammond,  sir !  They  in  some  manner 
received  information  of  the  intended  duel ;  they  hired  a 
yacht  and  followed  you  here  ;  but  they  arrived  too  late, 
they  found  you  badly  wounded  and  lying  insensible  on 
this  bed.  The  cousin  returned  the  same  day  to  London ; 
but  the  uncle  remained  here  until  you  showed  signs  of 
consciomsness  and  gave  us  hopes  of  recovery,  when — 
being  suddenly  called  away  by  important  business,  of  I 
know  not  what  nature,  he  too  left  the  island.  But  before 
going  he  made  an  arrangement  with  Mr.  Tredegar,  by 
which  the  last-named  gentleman  was  to  write  every  day 
and  keep  the  General  advised  of  the  state  of  his  nephew. 
Mr.  Tredegar  kept  his  part  of  the  compact,  1  know,  until 
he  also  had  to  leave." 

Alexander  did  not  reply  for  some  moments ;  and  when 
he  did  it  was  merely  to  say  : 

u  I  thank  you  for  telling  me  this." 

Alexander  fell  into  deep  thought.  Here  was  another 
enlightenment.  Here  was  another  subject  for  self- 
reproach  if  not  for  deep  remorse. 

The  high-toned,  tender-hearted  old  gentleman !  The 
frank  and  kindly  young  man  !  How  noble,  pure  and  lov- 
ing all  their  course  had  been  during  these  family  troubles, 
in  comparison  with  his  own !  How  they  had  always 
stepped  in  and  saved  himself  and  his  victims  from  the 
worst  consequences  of  his  violent  passions. 

But  for  General  Lyon  and  Richard  Hammond  where 
would  Drusilla  now  have  been  ?  Would  she,  could  she 
have  had  the  strength,  when  discarded  by  him  to  have 
struggled  on,  through  her  desolation,  unsupported  by 
their  strong  and  tender  manhood  ? 

Alick  groaned  and  tossed,  as  he  thought  of  these  things. 

In  fact  he  was  beginning  to  see  himself  and  others  in 
a  new  light.  It  seemed  to  him  now  that  he  had  wronged 
everybody  who  had  been  brought  into  close  companion- 
ship and  intimate  relations  with  himself. 

First,  he  had  wronged  his  cousin,  Anna,  his  earliest 
betrothed,  in  leaving  her  for  Drusilla ;  but  that  was  the 
least  of  his  offenses,  since  the  betrothal  had  been  neither 
his  work  nor  Anna's,  nor  yet  agreeable  to  the  one  or  the 


ALEXANDER'S  DISCOVERIES.  317 

Other.  Next,  he  had  wronged — most  bitterly  wronged — 
his  young,  fond,  true  wife,  whose  love  and  faith  had  never 
known  the  shadow  of  turning ;  and  this  he  now  felt  to  be 
his  greatest  sin.  And  he  had  wronged  his  uncle,  the  gal- 
lant old  veteran,  who  had  always  cherished  him  with  a 
father's  affection.  He  had  wronged  his  other  cousin, 
that  frank,  affectionate,  "  unlucky  dog,"  who  was  always 
ready  to  forgive  and  forget,  and  to  be  as  fast  friends  as 
ever.  He  had  wronged  the  noble  Prince  Ernest,  by  as- 
saulting him  like  a  bully,  upon  no  provocation,  and  driv- 
ing him  into  an  unseemly  duel. 

Good  Heavens !  when  he  came  to  reckon  with  himself, 
whom  had  he  not  wronged  whenever  he  had  had  the 
power? 

No  wonder  he  tossed  and  tumbled  on  his  bed,  and 
raised  his  fever,  and  inflamed  his  wounds,  and  protracted 
his  recovery,  and  in  other  ways  gave  his  surgeon  a  world 
of  trouble. 

But  with  all,  as  he  had  a  magnificent  constitution, — if 
that  is  not  too  big  a  word  to  apply  to  a  little  human 
organism, — he  continued  to  convalesce. 

One  day  he  was  permitted  to  sit  up  in  bed  for  a  few 
moments,  and  he  felt  himself  much  refreshed  by  the 
change  of  posture.  The  next  day  he  sat  up  a  little  longer, 
with  increased  advantage. 

At  length  there  came  a  day  when  the  patient  was  so 
much  better  that  the  surgeon  ventured  to  leave  him  in 
the  care  of  the  valet  and  of  the  people  of  the  hotel,  and  to 
go  for  a  holiday  to  the  neighboring  town  of  St.  Helier's. 

That  day  Alexander  sat  up  in  bed,  well  propped  up 
with  pillows,  and  waited  on  by  Simms. 

The  valet  had  trimmed  him  up  nicely,  and,  at  his  re- 
quest, had  placed  a  small  glass  in  his  hands  that  he  might 
look  at  his  face. 

And  a  very  pale,  thin,  haggard,  cadaverous  countenance 
it  was  to  contemplate.  And  the  clean-shaved  chin  and 
the  short-cropped  hair  added  nothing  to  its  attractions. 

"By  my  life!  I  look  more  like  a  newly-discharged 
convict  than  a  decent  citizen  or  anything  else,"  muttered 
Alexander  to  himself  as  he  handed  back  the  glass. 

"  Any  more  orders,  sir  ?  "  inquired  the  valet. 

**  No — yes ;  now  that  Dietz  is  off  for  a  holiday,  I  will 


318  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

take    some    recreation  too,  in  my  own  way — Simms!  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Do  you  know  whether  they  keep  the  files  of  the  Lon- 
don papers  here  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  I  can  inquire,  sir." 

"  Do  so." 

The  valet  left  the  room,  and,  after  an  absence  of  a  few 
minutes,  returned  with  a  pile  of  newspapers  in  his  hands. 

"  Here  is  a  file  of  the  Times  for  the  last  month,  sir,"  he 
said. 

"  Lay  them  on  the  foot  of  the  bed  where  I  can  reach 
t-hem,  and  slip  off  the  first  one  and  give  it  to  me." 

"  Here  it  is,  sir.     It  is  the  twenty-seventh." 

"  That  is  day  before  yesterday's.  Is  there  not  a  later 
one?" 

**  No,  sir ;  perhaps " 

«  Well  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  is  hi  the  reading-room,  sir.  It  must  have 
come  by  the  last  boat — yesterday's  times  must,  I  mean, 
sir.  They  tell  me  they  always  get  it  the  day  after  publica- 
tion. Shall  I  go  and  see  if  I  can  find  it,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes — no,"  said  Alexander,  quickly  changing  his  mind 
from  one  purpose  to  another,  as  is  often  the  case  with  con- 
valescents, and  less  from  caprice  or  irresolution  than  from  a 
momentary  forgetfulness  of  what  they  really  do  want. 
"  No,"  he  repeated,  suddenly  remembering  that  he  wished 
to  ascertain  whether  any  unpleasant  notice  had  been  taken 
of  his  foolish  duel  by  the  press.  "  Xo — I— you  needn't  go 
after  the  late  paper  just  yet.  I  have  been  laid  down  here 
nearly  a  month,  and  have  fallen  so  far  behind  the  world's 
news  that  I  must  go  back  and  post  myself  up.  I  will 
begin  with  the  paper  following  the  one  I  left  off  with  ;  and 
I  will  glance  over  them  all  in  turns  to  see  what  the  world 
has  been  doing  while  I  have  been  lying  here.  Give  me 
the  paper  of  the  date  of  the  second  of  June." 

The  valet  looked  through  the  file,  and  handed  the 
required  copy. 

"  Now  leave  the  others  there  where  I  can  reach  them." 

"  Yes,  sir.    Any  more  orders  ?  " 

"  No  ;  you  may  leave  the  room.  I  will  ring  if  I  should 
Want  you." 

Left  to  himself,  Alexander  opened  the  paper  and  glanced 


ALEXANDER'S  DISCOVERIES.  31$ 

over  its  contents.  Column  after  column,  page  after  page, 
of  that  voluminous  journal  passed  in  rapid  review  before 
him.  But  no  notice  of  the  duel  was  to  be  found  in  that 
number.  He  threw  it  aside  and  took  up  and  as  carefully 
examined  another  ;  but  with  no  better  success.  Then  he 
took  a  third,  of  the  date  June  fourth,  and  in  it  almost  the 
first  thing  that  met  his  eye  was  the  paragraph  of  which  he 
was  in  search. 

It  was  under  the  head  «  JERSEY,"  and  it  read  as  follows : 

"  An  '  affair  of  honor  '  so  called  came  off  yesterday  morning, 
in  the  neighborhood  of  St.  Aubins,  between  His  Highness  Prince 

E 1  of  H- n  and  his  Lordship  Baron  K n  of  K n, 

in  which  the  noble  lord  was  the  challenger.  The  occasion  of 
the  hostile  meeting  is  said  to  have  been  a  beautiful  young  widow, 
whose  debut  at  the  American  Ambassadress'  ball  a  few  days 
since  created  such  a  sensation.  Fortunately  for  the  madmen 
concerned,  the  duel  did  not  end  fatally  for  either  party.  The 

princely  H n  escaped  scatheless  and  has  returned  to  his  own 

country.      The    noble     K n    is   lying     somewhat     seriously 

wounded  at  St.  Aubins,  where  it  is  hoped  he  will  have  leisure  to 
repent  his  folly.  Such  '  affairs '  are  relics  of  barbarism,  un- 
worthy of  an  enlightened  community  and  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  Where  were  the  police  ?  " 

You  may  imagine  with  what  feelings  our  chivalric  Alex- 
ander read  these  comments.  So  this  was  the  light  in  which 
sensible  and  law-abiding  people  viewed  his  heroism. 

"  As  for  me,"  said  he,  as  he  laid  the  paper  down,  "  it 
serve  me  right ;  but  I  am  truly  sorry  that  she  has  been 
even  alluded  to  in  the  affair.  She  has  not  been  mentioned 
by  name  or  even  by  initial,  however,  and  I  am  consoled  by 
that  circumstance." 

Then  he  turned  to  other  parts  of  the  paper,  where  he 
found  something  to  absorb  his  attention  and  to  drive  the 
memory  of  the  affair  from  his  mind. 

"Eh!  what  is  this?" 

" '  ONE  THOUSAND  POUNDS  REWABD  ? ' 

«  What  state-prisoner  has  run  away  now,  of  such  im- 
portance that  a  thousand  pounds  is  offered  for  his  re- 
covery ? "  said  Alexander,  as  he  looked  more  closely  at 
the  advertisement. 


320  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

«  Ah  !  what's  this  ?  « A  child  lost ! ' — a — Heaven  hart 
mercy  on  my  soul,  it  is  Brasilia's  child  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
turning  even  paler  that  he  had  been  before,  as  he  read  the 
description  of  the  missing  boy. 

"  Lost  ?  Lost  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  of  June  ? 
Let  me  look  at  the  date  of  this  paper.  It  is  the  fourth. 
Has  he  been  found  yet,  I  wonder '?  He  must  have  been 
found  before  this.  Let  me  see — to-day,  is  the  twenty- 
ninth.  He  was  lost  twenty-six  or  seven  days  ago.  How 
long  was  he  lost  ?  When  was  he  found  ?  I  must  look 
over  the  next  papers  and  judge  by  them.  Of  course  the 
advertisement  was  discontinued  when  the  child  was 
found." 

And  saying  this  to  himself,  Alexander  took  up  the 
next  paper  in  succession,  and  the  next  after  that,  and 
another  and  another  still,  until  he  had  examined  some 
twenty- three  or  four  more  papers.  But  ah !  hi  every  one 
of  them  appeared  the  advertisement  for  the  lost  child. 
And  the  amount  of  the  reward  offered  was  constantly  in- 
creased. 

In  the  first  half-dozen  papers  it  was  one  thousand 
pounds ;  in  the  next  it  was  increased  to  fifteen  hundred  ; 
after  that  it  was  raised  to  three  thousand  pounds.  The 
last  paper  he  examined  was  one  of  the  date  of  June 
twenty-seventh,  in  which  the  advertisement  was  still 
standing. 

"  Good  Heavens  !  not  found  up  to  the  day  before  yes- 
terday !  Missing  for  twenty-five  days ! "  exclaimed  Alex- 
ander, as  he  turned  over  and  grasped  the  bell  pull  and 
rang  a  peal  that  speedily  brought  Simms  in  alarm  to  his 
bechide. 

"It  is  your  wound  broke  out  again,  sir  ?  "  exclaimed 
the  valet,  seeing  his  master's  disturbed  and  excited  look. 

"  No,  it  is  nothing  of  the  sort.  Simms,  go  down-stairs 
and  see  if  you  can  get  me  the  last  number  of  the  Times 
that  has  arrived  on  the  island.  If  it  is  not  in  the  read- 
ing-room, or  in  the  coffee  room,  or  if  anybody  else  has  it, 
or  in  short,  if  you  can't  procure  it  for  me  in  the  house, 
go  out  into  the  town  and  try  to  find  it  at  some  book- 
seller's or  news  agent's.  Be  quick,  Simms." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  will,"  answered  the  man,  hurrying  from  the 
room. 


ALEXANDER'S  DISCOVERIES.  32} 

Alexander  sank  back  upon  his  pillow  to  wait  for  his 
servant's  return.  He  had  not  to  wait  very  long. 

In  less  than  ten  minutes  Simms  re-entered  the  chamber, 
bringing  two  papers  in  his  hand. 

"  Here  is  the  Times  of  yesterday  morning  and  the  Ex- 
press of  yesterday  evening,  sir.  I  got  them  both  of  the 
news  agent  close  by." 

"  Give  them  to  me ! "  exclaimed  Alexander,  eagerly 
grasping  the  papers. 

He  hastily  examined  the  Times.  Yes,  there  was  the 
advertisement  still  standing.  He  turned  to  the  Evening 
Express,  and  there  also  it  stared  him  in  the  face,  with  a 
new  date,  the  date  of  the  day  of  publication,  and  with  a 
still  higher  raised  reward. 

Five  thousand  pounds  were  now  offered  to  any  person 
or  persons  who  should  restore  the  child,  or  give  such  in- 
formation as  should  lead  to  restoring  him  to  his  distracted 
mother. 

"  Not  found  up  to  yesterday  evening !  Poor  Brasilia f. 
poor,  poor  Brasilia !  and  poor  little  Lenny ! "  groaned 
Alick,  as  his  eyes  were  rivetted  upon  the  advertisement. 

Then  a  bright  thought  struck  him  ;  a  Heavenly  inspira- 
tion filled  him.  His  countenance  became  eager  and  irra- 
diated. 

"  I  will  go  in  search  of  her  child !  I  will  devote  all  my 
days  and  nights,  all  my  mind  and  all  my  means  to  the 
search  ;  and  I  will  find  him,  if  he  is  not  dead.  If  he  is 
above  ground  ~  will  find  him !  And  when  I  find  him  I 
will  go  and  lay  him  in  his  mother's  lap  and  ask  her  forgive- 
ness, and  she  will  grant  it  me  for  the  child's  sake  !  Oh  ! 
I  prayed  Providence  to  give  me  the  power  of  doing  her  a 
service,  and  now  I  have  got  it.  It  cannot  be  but  I  shall 
find  her  child,  and  so  regain  her  love  !  "  he  murmured. 

Then  looking  up  from  his  paper  he  called  out : 

«  Simms ! " 

The  valet,  who  was  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  en- 
gaged in  closing  the  window  blinds  to  exclude  the  hot 
rays  of  the  midday  sun,  turned  and  hurried  toward  the 
bedside. 

«  What  o'clock  is  it,  Simms  ?  " 

"  A  quarter-past  twelve,  sir,"  answered  the  man,  after 
consulting  his  silver  timepiece. 


322  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

u  At  what  hour  did  Dr.  Dietz  say  that  he  would  return 
here  ?  " 

"At  ten  to-night,  sir,  unless  something  unexpected 
should  turn  up  to  cause  you  to  require  his  services  be- 
fore that  time.  In  which  case,  sir,  I  was  to  sent  a  mounted 
messenger  after  him." 

"Not  return  until  ten  o'clock;  that  is  well;  for  I  must 
get  away  from  this  place  to-day  ;  and  if  he  were  here  he 
would  be  sure  to  oppose  my  doing  so,  and  I  want  no  con- 
troversy with  my  kind  physician, — Simms !  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Go  fetch  me  a  time-table  of  the  boats  that  leave  the 
Island  to-day." 

Siinms  vanished,  and  after  an  absence  of  a  few  minutes 
returned  and  said : 

"  If  you  please  sir,  there  are  no  time-tables.  But  the 
head  waiter  says  as  how  the  only  boat  that  leaves  St. 
Aubins  for  England  is  the  steamer  that  sails  for  South- 
liampton  at  ten  o'clock  every  morning." 

"  Is  that  the  only  boat  ?  " 

«  The  only  one  that  leaves  St.  Aubins,  sir ;  but  there  is 
another  steamer  leaves  St.  Helier's  every  afternoon  at 
three  o'clock  for  Portsmouth,  sir  !  " 

"  Let  jae  see  !  How  far  do  they  call  St.  Helier's  from 
here?" 

«  About  three  miles,  sir." 

"  That  '.vill  do  Go  down-stairs  and  tell  them  to  send 
me  my  bill,  including  Dr.  Dietz's.  And  then  order  a  fly  to 
be  at  the  door  by  two  o'clock.  And  then  pack  up  my 
traps  and  yours  as  quickly  as  possible.  We  start  for 
England  uTan  hour." 

The  valet  stared  at  his  master  in  speechless  astonish- 
ment for  a  moment,  and  then  gasped  : 

"  For  England,  sir  ' — In  an  hour,  sir  !  " 

"  Yes !  Don't  I  speak  plainly  enough  ?  Be  quick  and 
do  as  I  tell  you." 

"  But,  sir,  what  would  the  doctor  say  ?  You  have  never 
left  your  room  yet  since  you  have  been  wounded ! — scarcely 
left 'your  bed,  sir!  Consider  your  health,  sir?  Con- 
sider your  life ! " 

"  Consider  a  fig's  end !    There  are  matters  of  more 


ALEXANDER'S  DISCOVERIES.  323, 

moment  than  my  poor  life  that  demand  my  presence  in* 
England,"  said  Alexander. 

"  But,  sir,  the  doctor  said " 

"  Simms !  are  you  my  servant,  or  the  doctor's  ?  "  de- 
manded Alexander,  sternly. 

"  Yours,  sir,  of  course." 

"  Then  obey  me  at  once,  or  I  shall  send  you  about  your 
business." 

Simms  knew  that  he  had  profitable  place,  and  a  good 
master,  though  a  self-willed  one.  He  had  really  no  desire 
to  oppose  him  in  this  or  any  other  measure.  He  was 
heartily  tired  of  this  "  beastly  hole,"  as  he  chose  to  call 
one  of  the  prettiest  little  maritime  towns  in  the  world. 
So,  after  having  done  his  duty  and  relieved  his  con- 
science, by  offering  a  respectful  remonstrance  to  the 
proposed  exertions  on  the  part  of  the  invalid,  he  yielded  to 
circumstances  and  set  himself  promptly  to  work  to  obey 
his  master's  orders. 

Alexander  wrote  a  note  of  thanks  and  of  partial  expla- 
nation to  Doctor  Dietz,  enclosed  within  it  a  munificent, 
fee,  and  sent  it  down  to  the  office  to  be  handed  to  the 
surgeon  on  his  return. 

Alexander  was  a  free  man  and  a  sane  one.  And  though 
the  people  of  the  hotel  were  greatly  astonished  at  his 
sudden  resolution  to  travel  in  his  present  invalid  con- 
dition, and  strongly  suspected  him  of  running  away  from 
his  physician ;  and  though  they  had  every  will  to  stop* 
him,  they  had  not  the  power  to  do  so. 

And  at  two  o'clock,  all  his  arrangements  having  been 
completed,  Alick,  attended  by  his  servant,  entered  the 
cab  that  was  to  take  him  to  St.  Helier's. 

He  reached  there  in  time  to  catch  the  steamer  ;  and  at: 
three  o'clock  he  sailed  for  Portsmouth. 


THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

LITTLE  LENNY'S  ENEMY. 

Where  the  haters  meet 
In  the  crowded  city's  horrible  street.—  BROWNING. 

PINA  was  right  in  her  surmises  as  to  the  manner  of 
little  Lenny's  abduction.  And  he  really  had  been  car- 
ried off  by  one  of  the  two  men  whom  she  had  detected  hi 
watching  him. 

And  this  necessitates  the  explanation  of  some  circum- 
stances, which,  however,  did  not  become  known  until 
some  tune  afterward. 

It  not  unfrequently  happens  that  the  heirs  of  an  es- 
tate, or  a  title  long  held  in  abeyance  and  supposed  to  be 
'extinct,  are  poor  and  obscure  people,  quite  ignorant  of 
their  connection  with,  or  right  hi  such  an  inheritance. 

The  claim  recently  confirmed  by  the  House  of  Lords  is 
a  case  in  point.  The  claim  to  the  barony  of  Kilcrichtoun 
is  another. 

Alexander  Lyon  was  totally  uninformed  as  to  his  right 
'to  the  title  and  estate  of  Kilcrichtoun  until  his  visit  to 
England  and  Scotland,  when,  in  searching  the  records  of 
his  mother's  family,  he  discovered  the  facts  that  led  to 
his  subsequent  action  in  claiming  the  barony. 

But  the  investigations  that  ensued  developed  other 
facts,  and  brought  forward  other  heirs,  or  rather  one 
other,  who  would  surely  have  been  the  heir  had  Alexan- 
der l>een  out  of  existence. 

This  was  a  descendant  of  a  younger  sister  of  that  an- 
cestress through  whom  Alexander  Lyon  claimed  the 
title. 

The  name  of  this  man  was  Clarence  Everage.  He  was 
that  most  to  be  pitied  of  all  human  creatures  -a  poor 
gentleman,  with  more  children  than  means  to  support 
them ;  more  mouths  to  feed  than  money  to  find  food  ; 
more  intellect  than  integrity ;  more  refinement  than  firm- 
ness. A  man  now  about  thirty-five  years  of  age,  with 
a  long,  hopeless  life  before  him ;  a  man  with  some  beaut/ 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ENEMY.  325 

of  person,  dignity  of  presence,  and  graciousness  of  man- 
ner ;  with  sensitive  feelings,  and  delicate  tastes,  and  soft 
white  hands  ;  a  man  who  loved  fragrant  baths  and  fresh 
linen  every  day ;  and  cool,  clean,  quiet  rooms  to  live  in  ; 
and  well-dressed,  soft-speaking  light- stepping  people 
about  him  ;  and  respect  and  attention  and  observance 
from  all  who  came  in  contact  with  him  ;  one  who  loving 
to  be  happy  and  comfortable  himself,  loved  still  more  to 
make  others  happy  and  comfortable  ;  one  naturally  more 
prone  to  confer  favors  than  to  ask  them  ;  more  willing  to 
give  than  to  take  ;  naturally  rather  vain  than  proud, 
sensitive  than  irritable,  and  weak  than  wicked. 

And  yet  a  man  who  had  to  live  in  mean  lodgings  in  a 
small,  dark  house,  in  a  narrow  dirty  street  in  the  Strand, 
where  in  two  musty  stuffy  rooms  he  crowded  his  wife, 
who  was  as  refined  and  delicate  as  himself,  and  six  little- 
girls,  who  would  have  been  beautiful  had  they  not 
suffered  so  much  from  confined  air,  bad  food  and  scant 
clothing. 

His  position  really  was  not  at  fault.  England,  and  es- 
pecially London,  is  so  fearfully  overcrowded  ;  the  com- 
petition in  all  trades,  professions  and  occupations  is  sex 
hopelessly  great. 

He  was  an  usher  hi  a  third-rate  London  school,  and  he- 
had  an  income  barely  sufficient  to  support  himself  in  com- 
fort ;  and  of  course  it  will  be  said  that  he  ought  not  to 
have  married. 

Ah !  but  Nature  had  fooled  him  in  his  youth  as  she 
fools  so  many.  And  yet  I  take  that  back.  I  will  utter 
no  such  blasphemy  against  Holy  Nature.  No  doubt 
Nature  is  always  right,  and  it  is  always  well  that  chil- 
dren should  be  born,  even  though  they  should  suffer 
cruelly  and  die  early,  since  they  are  born  for  the  eternal 
life,  through  to  which  this  earthly  life  is  but  a  short, 
rough  gateway,  soon  passed. 

But  without  excusing  themselves  with  any  such  hy- 
pothesis as  this,  the  young  man  and  young  girl  had 
followed  Nature,  taken  the  leap  in  the  dark,  and  plunged 
head — no,  heart  foremost,  into  their  imprudent  marriage. 
And  the  natural  consequences  ensued.  The  beautiful- 
children  came  as  unhesitatingly  as  if  they  were  entering 
upon  a  heritage  of  wealth,  health  and  happiness,  instead 


326  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

of  want,  illness,  and  misery  ;  and  every  year  added  to 
their  number. 

The  wretched  father  groaned  for  himself  and  his  wife. 

But  the  gentle  mother  reminded  him  that  Heaven,  in 
afflicting  them  with  lighter  trials,  had  always  spared 
them  the  one  great  trial  that  they  never  could  be  able  to 
bear — namely,  the  loss  of  their  children.  Not  one  of  the 
little  ones  had  been  taken  from  them.  Each  and  all  had 
fought  valiantly  and  successfully  through  measles,  whoop- 
ing-cough, scarlet  fever,  and  the  rest ;  but  whether  because 
of,  or  in  spite  of  the  cheap  quack  medicines  the  impover- 
ished parents  poured  down  their  throats,  I  cannot  say. 

It  was  when  they  were  expecting  their  seventh  child 
that  Clarence  Everage,  who  had  been  hunted  out  by 
Alexander  Lyon  and  the  lawyers,  was  suddenly  called 
from  his  obscurity  to  bear  witness  in  the  investigation  of 
Mr.  Lyon's  claim  to  the  Barony  of  Killcrichtoun. 

It  was  but  a  link  in  the  chain  of  evidence  that  he  was 
to  furnish.  But  any  information  he  was  expected  to  be 
able  to  give  was  as  nothing  compared  to  the  tremendous 
revelation  that  was  about  to  be  made  to  himself. 

He,  the  poor  usher,  starving  in  a  miserable  third-floor 
back  in  Wellington  street,  Strand — heir-presumptive  to 
a  barony ! — the  ancient  Barony  of  Killcrichtoun  !  And 
but  for  this  intrusive  foreigner  actually  Baron  of  Kill- 
•crichtoun  himself.  For  be  it  remembered  that  Clarence 
Everage  knew  nothing  whatever  of  Alexander  Lyon's 
wife  and  child. 

The  investigation,  as  you  know,  terminated  in  Alexan- 
der's favor. 

And  this  witness  and  self-styled  heir  presumptive  was 
liberally  remunerated  and  sent  home  to  his  poor  lodgings, 
pale  wife  and  pining  children,  to  brood  over  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  this  life — to  brood  until  he,  whose  temper  had 
through  all  his  trials  been  sweet,  kind  and  cheerful,  be- 
came soured  and  embittered  and  sorely  tempted. 

What  right,  he  asked  himself,  had  this  man — whose 
branch  of  the  Killcrichtoun  family  had  been  self-expatri- 
ated for  generations — to  come  over  here  and  claim  the 
ancient  barony  ? 

He  was  not  a  Scotchman,  nor  even  an  Englishman,  that 
should  he  hold  it 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ENEMY.  32T 

And  what  good  did  it  do  him,  after  all  ? 

Beyond  the  mere  title,  the  new  baron  cared  little  for  the 
inheritance.  He  had  not  even  visited  KUlcrichtoun. 
While  to  him  the  poor  usher,  what  a  god-send,  what  a 
treasure,  what  a  paradise  it  might  have  been.  This  es- 
tate which  was  nothing  to  the  wealthy  Virginian,  would 
have  been  everything  to  himself. 

He,  had  he  possessed  it,  would  have  sold  one-half  th< 
land  to  get  funds  to  cultivate  the  other  half.  He  would 
have  pulled  dowm  the  most  ruinous  parts  of  the  castle  to 
get  materials  to  build  up  the  better  part  of  it.  And  he 
would  have  employed  the  starving  tenants  of  the  little 
hamlet  in  repairing  his  dwelling  and  tilling  his  ground, 
and  a  part  of  the  wages  he  paid  them  would  have  come 
back  to  himself  in  the  form  of  rents. 

He,  the  despised  usher,  oppressed  by  master  and  chafed 
by  pupils,  would  then  be  lord  of  the  manor,  with  servants. 
and  tenantry  dependent  upon  him. 

His  poor  wife,  who  was  looked  down  upon  by  small 
shopkeepers  and  snubbed  by  her  laundress,  would  be  a 
baroness  and  "  my  lady." 

His  pale  little  girls,  bleached  by  the  fogs  of  London,, 
would  grow  strong  and  rosy  on  the  bracing  air  of  the- 
Highlands. 

All  this  would  happen,  if  only  he,  and  not  this  interlop- 
ing American,  were  Baron  of  Killcrichtoun. 

He  brooded  too  constantly  and  profoundly  over  the  ad- 
vantages that  must  have  accrued  to  him  had  he  been  the- 
fortunate  inheritor  of  Killcrichtoun,  as  might  have  hap- 
pened had  it  not  been  for  this  interloping  stranger  wha 
had  no  business  in  the  country. 

He  felt  a  morbid  interest  in  the  foreigner  who  was  so 
fortunate  as  to  succeed  to  the  title,  and  be  able  to  disre- 
gard the  small  estate  that  came  with  it. 

He  took  pains  to  learn  as  much  as  possible  of  Lord  Kill, 
crichtoun's  history.  He  was  often  in  his  lordship's  com- 
pany, in  streets  and  shops  and  other  common  ground 
where  they  could  meet  on  equal  terms.  He  talked  much 
to  hun  and  of  him,  and  so  learned  more  of  his  antecedents: 
than  was  known  to  any  one  else  out  of  the  family  in  Lon- 
don. 

He  often  met  Alexander  in  his  well-known  haunts, 


328  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

walked  with  him,  sat  with  him,  and  smoked  with  him. 
Occasionally,  at  Alick's  invitation,  he  ate  and  drank  with 
him. 

Why  not?  If  Lord  Killcrichtoun  was  unmarried,  as  he 
was  generally  supposed  to  be,  then  Clarence  Everage 
was  heir  presumptive  to  the  title  and  estate. 

True,  he  knew  that  the  present  baron  was  some  five  or 
six  years  younger  than  himself,  and  in  that  view  of  the 
case  there  was  little  hope  of  the  inheritance. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  Alexander,  like  the  generality 
of  American  men,  was  tall  and  lank,  thin  and  sallow,  with 
that  appearance  of  ill-health  which  was  not  real,  but 
which  was  greatly  enhanced  by  the  careworn  and  haggard 
expression  of  countenance  which  had  characterized  his 
face  ever  since  his  abandonment  of  Drusilla. 

So,  upon  the  whole,  Clarence  Everage,  gazing  gloomily 
upon  Lord  Killcrichtoun,  thought  the  chances  of  his  lord- 
ship's death  by  consumption,  and  of  his  own  accession  to 
the  title  and  estate,  within  a  year  or  two,  were  very  good. 

"  If  only,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  the  fool  should  not  in 
the  meantime  marry  and  have  an  heir.  That  would  make 
the  case  hopeless  indeed." 

This  anxiety  lest  Lord  Killcrichtoun  should  marry  and 
have  an  heir  before  death  should  claim  him,  so  preyed  up- 
on the  poor  gentleman's  spirits  that  he  watched  over  his 
lordship  more  carefully,  and  inquired  about  him  more  anx- 
iously than  ever. 

In  the  places  where  they  chanced  to  meet,  he  could 
neither  see  nor  hear  any  sign  of  the  misfortunes  he 
dreaded.  No  one  knew  whether  his  lordship  was  med- 
itating matrimony  or  not ;  no  rumor  of  his  contemplating 
conjugal  life  was  afloat. 

Of  course  the  impoverished  gentleman  hi  his  thread- 
bare coat,  limp  linen  and  broken  gloves,  could  not  go  into 
those  circles  from  which  Lord  Killcrichtoun  would  be 
likely  to  select  a  bride  ;  and  so,  though  Everage  in  their 
mutual  resorts  learned  nothing  to  alarm  him,  he  was  tor- 
mented with  uneasiness  as  to  what  might  be  going  on  out 
of  his  sight  in  places  from  which  his  poverty  excluded 
Mm. 

He  went  into  coffee-rooms,  not  to  partake  of  the  re- 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ENEMY.  329 

freshments  for  which  he  could  not  pay,  but  to  look  at  the? 
fashionable  news,  longing  to  see  at  what  dinners,  dancesy 
or  conversaziones,  he,  who  was  keeping  him  out  of  his- 
estate,  had  been  seen,  and  fearing  to  find,  under  the  head 
of  "APPROACHING  MARRIAGES  IN  HIGH  LIFE,"  some  an- 
nouncement of  the  calamity  he  so  much  dreaded — the  im- 
pending marriage  of  the  baron.  But  of  course  he  never 
found  anything  of  the  sort. 

"•  I  hope  the  fellow  has  too  much  sense — yes,  and  too 
much  conscience,  to  think  of  taking  a  wife.  Men  in  his 
wretched  state  of  health  should  never  marry  ;  for  when 
they  do,  they  always  entail  their  infirmities  upon  any 
children  they  may  happen  to  have,"  said  Everage,  with 
virtuous  emphasis ;  for  his  wish  being  father  to  his 
thought,  he  had  fully  persuaded  himself  that  Alexander 
was  in  a  very  bad  way — a  doomed  man,  rushing  with- 
railroad  rapidity  to  the  grave. 

"  If  he  will  only  refrain  from  marriage  for  a  year  or 
two  all  will  be  well,"  said  Everage  to  himself,  as  visions, 
not  of  wealth,  rank  and  grandeur,  but  simply  of  indepen- 
dence, respectability  and  comfort  floated  before  his  eyes. 

Sitting  in  his  small,  stifling  room,  surrounded  by  his 
little  pale  girls  and  his  invalid  wife,  breathing  the  heavy 
city  air,  he  thought  of  Killcrichtoun  that  might  yet  soon 
be  his  own.  He  saw  the  forests  of  fragrant  pine  and 
feathery  firs ;  the  fields  of  oats  and  barley ;  the  streams 
full  of  trout  and  salmon ;  the  mountains  with  their  game  j 
the  old  tower  with  its  cool  rooms.  He  saw  his  wife  and 
daughters  blooming  with  health  and  smiling  with  happi- 
ness ;  he  felt  the  bracing  breezes  of  the  Highlands  fan  his 
brow.  Sitting  in  his  stuffy  little  room,  he  saw  and  felt 
all  this  in  a  vision,  and  he  longed  and  prayed,  oh  how 
earnestly,  that  this  vision  might  yet  be  realized. 

But  a  very  great  shock  was  at  hand  for  him. 
.    One  day,  while  Lord  Killcrichtoun  and  himself  were 
walking  on  Trafalgar  square,  they  met  a  nurse  and  child^ 
with  whom  his  lordship  immediately  stopped  to  speak. 

At  the  very  first  sight  of  the  child,  Everage  was  struck 
with  its  unmistakable  likeness  to  Lord  Killcrichtoun, 
And  when  the  baron  took  the  boy  in  his  arms,  and  hugged 
and  kissed  him  with  effusion,  Everage  looked- on  in  sur- 


330  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

prise  and  disapprobation,  for  he  thought  that  he  knew  his 
lordship  was  unmarried,  even  while  he  detected  the  rela- 
tionship between  the  two. 

But  Alexander  took  his  son,  and,  desiring  his  friend 
and  the  child's  nurse  to  wait  for  him  there,  he  crossed 
over  to  the  Strand,  and  went  into  a  toy  shop. 

Left  alone  with  the  girl,  Everage  was  sorely  tempted 
to  question  her,  but  a  sense  of  honor  and  delicacy  pre- 
vented his  doing  so. 

After  a  few  minutes,  Alexander  returned  to  the  spot, 
leading  the  little  boy,  who  had  his  hands  full  of  toys. 

"  Take  him  home  to  his  mother  now,  nurse.  The  air 
is  too  sultry  to  keep  him  out  longer,"  he  said,  kissing  his 
child  and  delivering  him  over  to  Pina. 

When  the  girl  had  carried  off  her  charge,  the  two  gen- 
tlemen walked  on  a  little  while  in  silence. 

Everage,  in  his  anxiety,  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  That  is  a  very  handsome  little  boy,"  he  said, 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  fine  little  fellow,"  answered  Alick. 

tt  He  is  very  like  you,"    continued  Everage. 

"I  suppose  he  must  be  since  even  I  can  see  the  like- 
ness." 

«  And  he  is  very  fond  of  you,"  persevered  Everage. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Alick  in  a  very  low  tone. 

"  Your  nephew,  of  course  ?  "  inquired  Everage,  after  a 
little  hesitation,  hoping  that,  after  all,  such  might  be  the 
relationship  of  the  baby  to  the  man. 

«  No,  he  is  not  my  nephew.  I  have  not,  nor  ever  had, 
sister  or  brother  to  give  me  niece  or  nephew.  I  am  a  lone- 
ly man,  Everage." 

"  Ah  ! "  sighed  the  other,  wiht  a  look  of  sympathy — but 
he  thought  in  his  heart,  "  So  much  the  better  !  " 

"  But— he  is  my  son,  Everage ! "  said  Alick,  with  emo- 
tion. 

"Your  son?"  exclaimed  the  would-be  heir  of  the 
barony. 

It  was  what  he  had  at  first  suspected,  even  when  he 
thought  Lord  Killcrichtoun  was  unmarried  ;  but  yet  he 
was  ill-at-ease,  and,  out  of  his  anxiety,  burst  this  exclama- 
tion : 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  had  a  wife." 

**  Nor  have  I !  nor  can  I  ever  have — that  is  the  c'irse  of 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ENEMY.  331 

my  life  !  But  I  had  one  once.  The  subject  is  a  painful 
one,  Everage ! " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  poor  gentleman,  with  real 
regret  that  he  had  torn  open  an  unsuspected  wound,  and 
real  sympathy  for  the  evident  sufferings  of  the  victim,  felt 
amid  all  the  disappointment  and  dismay  with  which  he 
heard  of  the  existence  of  Lord  Killcrichtoun's  son  and 
heir,  and  the  consequent  blasting  of  all  his  own  hopes  of 
the  inheritance. 

The  tone  and  look  of  sympathy  touched  Alexander's 
lonely  heart.  He  longed  to  speak  to  some  one  of  his  sor- 
rows ;  to  some  one  with  whom  it  might  be  c'screet  and 
safe  to  deposit  the  secret  troubles  of  his  life.  To  whom 
could  he  so  well  confide  them  as  to  this  poor  gentleman, 
who  seemed  to  possess  some  fine  feelings  of  delicacy  and 
honor,  and  who  was  certainly  by  circumstances  far  re- 
moved from  those  circles  in  which  Alexander  would  abhor 
to  have  his  domestic  miseries  made  known. 

"  There  is  no  offense,"  said  Alexander,  answering  the 
last  words  of  Everage,  "  you  could  not  have  known  the 
tenderness  of  the  chord  you  touched.  And  I  thank  you 
now  for  the  kindness  your  tones  and  looks  expressed. 
Come !  shall  we  hail  a  hansom,  -  r.d  go  to  Very 's  to  lunch  ?  " 

"  Thanks,— with  pleasure  !  "  said  Everage,  who  always 
keenly  appreciated  and  enjoyed  the  game,  the  salads,  and 
the  wines  at  Very's  ;  ''  'ait — then  he  glanced  at  his  rusty, 
threadbare  coat,  his  dusty  old  boots,  and  his  day-before- 
yesterday's  clean  shirt- bosom. 

"  Oh,  never  mind  your  dress,  man  !  Who  the  mischief 
ever  dresses  to  go  to  lunch  in  the  morning  ? — Cab  !  " 

The  empty  hansom  that  was  passing  drew  up.  The 
two  gentlemen  got  in  to  it,  and  Alexander  gave  the  order : 

"  Very's,  corner  of  Regent  and  Oxford  streets." 

Arrived  at  the  famous  restaurant,  Alexander  told  the 
cabman  to  wait,  and  led  his  friend  into  the  saloon. 

There  curtained  off  in  a  snug  recess,  and  seated  at  a 
neat  table,  upon  which  was  arranged  a  relishing  repast, 
Alexander,  while  making  a  slight  pretense  of  eating  and 
drinking,  told  his  story,  or  part  of  it  to  Clarence  Everage, 
who  listened  attentively,  even  while  doing  full  justice  to 
the  good  things  set  before  him. 

"  You  will  understand  now,"  said  Lord  Killcrichtoun, 


332  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

in  conclusion,  "  how  it  is,  that  though  I  am  a  husband 
and  a  father,  I  have  neither  wife  nor  child." 

"  That  is  very  deplorable,  if  it  is  really  so,"  said  the 
poor  man,  with  a  real  compassion  for  sorrows  that  he  was 
inclined  to  consider  much  heavier  than  he  had  been  called 
tipon  to  endure.  For  what,  he  asked  himself,  were  the 
"worst  pangs  of  toil,  care  and  want  compared  to  the  grief 
that  would  be  his  portion  should  he,  in  any  way,  lose  his 
own  fond  wife  and  dear  children  ? — u  Very,  very  lamenta- 
ble, if  it  is  indeed  true !  but  let  us  hope  it  is  not  so;  that 
your  imagination  exaggerates  the  circumstance.  Let  us 
trust  that  the  quarrel  is  not  irreconcilable ;  that  the  hus- 
band has  still  a  wife,  the  father  still  a  child." 

u  No,  I  have  no  wife  nor  ever  shall  have  one  ;  for  though 
Drusilla  is  neither  dead  nor  divorced,  she  is  hopelessly 
estranged  from  me.  1  have  no  wife,  nor  ever  shall  have 
one." 

"  But  you  have  a  child.  He  at  least  is  not  estranged 
from  you." 

"  No,  but  he  belongs  to  his  mother  who  bore  him  in 
peril  of  her  own  life,  and  has  nurtured  him  tenderly  and 
loves  him  fondly,  I  know.  He  belongs  to  her." 

"  But  the  law  gives  him  to  you.  You  can  claim  him 
when  you  will." 

"  But  I  would  cut  off  my  right  hand,  I  would  lay  down 
my  life,  before  I  would  take  him  from  his  mother,  or  do 
anything  else  to  give  her  pain." 

"  But,  man,  he  is  your  heir !  " 

"Yes,  he  is  my  heir,  and  only  child.  If  he  should 
live,  of  course  he  will  inherit  Killcrichtoun.  If  he  should 
not,  why  the  barony  will  go  to  some  distant  branch  of 
the  family,  unearthed  in  the  investigation  set  on  foot 
by  my  lawyers,  when  I  laid  claim  to  the  title  and  estates. 
And — why,  bless  my  soul,  old  fellow,  it  may  go  to  you ! 
May  it  not  ?  " 

"  Failing  yourself  and  heirs  of  your  body,  it  may,"  re- 
plied the  poor  gentleman,  gravely.  And  then  he  pushed 
back  his  chair  and  showed  signs  of  impatience  to  be 
off. 

The  usher  was  allowed  but  half  an  hour  to  take  his 
lunch,  and  even  now  he  was  due  at  his  schoolroom  and  hi 
danger  of  a  reprimand  from  his  principal. 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ENEMY.  S3g 

Alexander  perceived  his  uneasiness  and  rang  the  hand 
bell  that  stood  upon  the  table. 

Everage  took  out  his  purse. 

"Put  that  up,  if  you  please,  Everage.  I  mrited  you 
here ;  and  you  are  my  guest,  "  said  Alexander,  taking 
out  his  purse. 

"  See  here,  Killcrichtoun !  upon  one  pretense  or  another 
you  always  contrive  to  do  this  thing.  Now  I  am  not  go- 
ing to  stand  it  any  longer.  Unless  you  let  me  foot  the 
bill  sometimes,  and  unless  you  let  me  foot  it  now,  I  can 
never  lunch  with  you  again,"  said  the  poor  gentleman, 
with  much  dignity ;  then  turning  to  the  waiter  who  at 
that  instant  made  his  appearance,  he  added — "  Let  me 
have  our  bill  immediately." 

The  mercury  vanished  to  execute  the  order. 

"  But,  really,  Everage "  began  Alexander. 

"  But,  really,  Killcrichtoun,"  interrupted  the  poor  gen- 
tleman, "  though  this  is  too  small  a  matter  to  dispute 
about,  you  must  let  me  have  my  will." 

Alexander  gave  way. 

The  waiter  came  and  put  the  bill  in  Everage's  hands 
and  the  usher,  who  had  that  day  received  his  second 
quarter's  salary,  amounting  to  barely  fifteen  pounds,  paid 
thirty  shillings  for  their  lunch,  and  bestowed  half  a  crown* 
on  the  waiter  who  served  them. 

Alexander  sighed  and  groaned  in  the  spirit  as  he  saw 
this  ;  but  he  could  do  nothing  on  earth  to  prevent  it,  or 
to  remedy  it.  What  in  the  world  is  one  to  do  in  such  a 
case  with  a  sensitive,  poor  gentleman  ?  He  would  be 
alive  to  all  your  ruses,  and  feel  hurt  by  them  and  defeat 
them.  Alexander  would  rather  have  paid  ten  times  the 
amount  from  his  own  ample  means  than  seen  the  usher 
discharge  the  bill  from  his  slender  stock. 

Then  they  arose  from  the  table  and  went  back  to  their 
cab. 

And  Alick  ordered  the  cabman  to  drive  to  the 
street  where  the  school-house  in  which  Everage  served, 
was  situated,  and  he  dropped  the  usher. 

I  declare  that  up  to  this  day  Clarence  Everage  had  en- 
tertained no  idea  of  gaining  his  ends  by  evil  means. 

But  the  story  that  he  had  heard  from  Alexander  was  a 
startling  and  curious  and  interesting  one ;  and  he  could 


334:  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

not  help  brooding  over  it  and  speculating  upon  it.  Lord 
Killcrichtoun  had  a  wife  and  child !  The  fact  at  first 
view  seemed  very  fatal  to  Everage's  hopes  of  ever  suc- 
ceeding to  the  title ;  but  upon  closer  consideration  it  was 
not  so.  Lord  Killcrichtoun  was  hopelessly  estranged 
from  his  wife ;  but  he  was  not  divorced  from  her,  nor 
free  to  marry  again.  He  had  but  one  child,  his  son  and 
heir ;  and  if  anything  should  happen  to  this  child,  Lord 
Killcrichtoun,  in  his  peculiar  circumstances,  could  not 
hope  for  other  legal  offspring,  and  Everage  would  be 
quite  secure  in  his  position  as  heir- presumptive  of  the 
barony. 

And  Alexander  really  looked  paler,  thinner,  and  more 
cadaverous  than  ever !  Truly  in  much  worse  health  than 
before  !  Clearly  not  long  for  this  world !  And  if  any- 
thing should  happen  to  the  child  before  his  father's  death, 
Everage  would  not  long  be  kept  out  of  his  inheritance  ! 

If  anything  should  happen   to   the  child!     Dangerous, 
speculation !     In  monarchies  it  is  treason  even  to  imagine 
the  death  of  the  sovereign.      And  it  is  so  with  much 
good  reason,  since  such  imaginings  often  realize  them- 
selves. 

It  could  not  be  treason  ;  but  it  was  treachery  in  Clarence 
Everage  even  to  imagine  the  removal  of  the  little  child 
that  stood  between  him  and  the  inheritance  of  Killcrich- 
toun. It  was  not  only  wrong  but  perilous  for  him  to  do  so. 
But  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  not  help  it.  Day  and  night 
he  brooded  over  the  idea,  with  a  morbid  intensity  akin  to 
monomania.  And  there  was  his  poverty,  and  the  pale  faces 
of  his  poor  wife  and  little  girls,  to  goad  him  on.  And 
there  was  that  painful  computation  of  pounds,  shillings 
and  pence,  that  agonized  straining  of  his  soul  to  make  his 
meagre  wages  meet  their  merest  wants.  And  now  the 
cruel  extravagance  into  which  his  pride  and  sensitive- 
ness had  betrayed  him  in  paying  for  that  lunch  at 
Very's  had  almost  ruined  him  for  this  quarter.  There  was 
now  no  possible  way  in  which  he  could  make  the  two  ends 
meet  for  the  time. 

And  he  knew,  as  only  the  experienced  in  such  matters 
can  know,  and  he  dreaded  as  only  the  proud  and  sensitive 
can  dread,  the  troubles  that  must  follow — the  degrading 
•quabbles  with  his  landlady,  the  humiliating  apologies  to 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ENEMY.  335 

the  butcher  and  the  baker — nay,  the  sight  of  his  wife's 
shabby  dress  and  his  little  daughters'  all  but  bare  feet. 

And  he  thought  how  different  all  this  would  be  were  he 
the  heir  of  Killcrichtoun,  as  he  should  be  but  for  Alexander 
Lyon's  son. 

He  thus  "  imagined  "  the  death  of  the  child  and  the 
advantages  that  must  accrue  to  himself  in  that  event. 
But  would  he  have  "  compassed  "  the  death  of  the  child  for 
any  such  advantage  ? 

Oh,  no !  not  for  Killcrichtoun,  or  a  hundred  Killcrich- 
touns,  would  he  have  committed  such  a  crime.  But — he 
was  too  prone  to  consider  certain  facts  in  the  statistics  of 
population,  life  and  death ;  how  it  was  set  down  that  more 
than  one  half  the  children  born,  died  before  they  had  at- 
tained the  age  of  three  years.  He  supposed  little  Lenny 
to  be  about  two  years  and  a  half  old.  He  wondered 
whether  the  child  had  passed  safely  through  measles, 
whooping-cough,  scarlet  fever,  and  all  the  other  perilous 
"  ills  "  to  which  children's  "  flesh  is  heir,"  or  whether  he 
had  yet  to  encounter  all  or  any  of  them. 

He  had  gathered  from  Lord  Killcrichtoun's  narrative 
that  the  child  lived  with  his  mother  and  her  friends  at 
the  Morley  House,  and  that  he  was  often  taken  by  his 
nurse  to  walk  in  Trafalgar  square  and  its  vicinity. 

And  so,  morning,  noon,  and  evening,  when  not  engaged 
in  his  school  duties-  or  with  his  family,  he  prowled  about 
the  neighborhood,  to  waylay  little  Lenny  and  his  nurse, 
and  watch  over  his  health. 

One  day,  when  no  one  else  was  very  near,  he  saw  Pina 
and  her  charge  together,  and  accosted  them. 

"  How  do  you  do,  my  little  man  ?  "  he  inquired,  patting 
Lenny  on  the  head  or  rather,  the  hat. 

"  Me  not  man — me  itty  boy,"  answered  Lenny,  staring. 

"Oh,  little  boy,  are  you?  Well,  how  do  you  do,  little 
boy  ?  "  smiled  Everage. 

"  Me  very  well, — how  you  ?  "  politely  responded  Lenny. 

"  I'm  very  well  too." 

"  Me  dad  you  very  well  too." 

"  Thank  you." 

w  You  dot  itty  boy  home  ?  " 

"  No,  I've  got  no  little  boy  at  home ;  but  I  have  got  six 
little  girls." 


336  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

«  Sit  itty  dirl  ?    Me  habben  dot  itty  dirl  home." 

"  Haven't  you  ?  what  a  pity  ! " 

"  You  bin  you  itty  dirl  hee  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  I'll  bring  my  little  girls  to  see  you,"  said  the 
poor  gentleman,  turning  away  from  the  child  with  some 
emotion,  and  beginning  to  talk  with  Pina, — who  was  look- 
ing on  and  smiling  with  proud  delight  at  the  bright  intelli- 
gence and  gracious  manners  of  her  little  charge. 

"  He  is  a  very  fine  little  fellow,  nurse,"  said  Everage. 

"  Yes,  sir,  lots  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  who  stop  to 
speak  to  him,  say  the  same,  "  answered  Pina,  gazing  with 
.satisfaction  upon  her  little  Lenny. 

"And  he  is  very  like  his  father,"  pursued  Everage. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  never  could  see  the  likeness  myself,  I'm 
«ure,"  answered  the  girl  resentfully,  and  wondering  how 
tills  stranger  came  to  know  who  was  little  Lenny's  father. 

"He  seems  to  be  perfectly  healthy?"  went  on  the 
would-be  heir  presumptive. 

"  Why,  he  never  had  any  real  illness  for  an  hour,  sir. 
Even  when  he  was  teething,  he  only  ailed  a  little — noth- 
ing to  speak  of  at  all,  sir." 

"  Ah,  well,  he's  like  a  young  bear — all  his  troubles  are 
before  him." 

"  Indeed,  sir ;  then  I  think  you  are  more  of  a  bear, 
yourself  to  be  a-saying  of  such  things !  Come,  master 
Leonard,  let  us  go  home — mamma  will  be  wanting  us." 

"  Dood-by !  come  hee  me  soon,"  said  Lenny,  holding 
;out  his  hand  to  the  stranger. 

«  Good-by,  my  little  lad !  "  said  Everage,  pressing  the 
child's  offered  hand  as  he  turned  away. 

Little  Lenny  and  his  nurse  went  back  to  the  Morley 
House,  and  Everage  bent  his  steps  to  the  Newton  Insti- 
tute for  Young  Gentlemen, 

"  More  than  one-half  the  children  that  are  born  alive  die 
before  they  reach  the  age  of  three  years,  do  they  ?  Well 
— clearly  this  youngster  belongs  to  the  half  that  live ! 
Never  has  had  any  of  those  infantile  disorders  that  slay 
Infants  of  '  two  years  old  and  under,'  with  a  massacre  more 
terrible  than  that  of  Herod  of  Galilee.  Ah !  but  the  little 
fellow  has  them  all  to  meet,  for  they  are  sure  to  come, 
sooner  or  later ;  yes,  but  he  has  a  fine  constitution  with 
which  to  fight  disease ;  well,  but  still  this  is  certain,  that 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ENEMY.  337 

children  of  robust  frames,  full-fleshed  and  full-blooded, 
never  get  over  these  inflammatory  fevers  as  easily  as  do 
those  of  thinner  and  feebler  organization.  These  very 
healthy  children  are  exceedingly  apt  to  go  off  in  these 
acute  attacks  of  disease.  Master  Lyon,  Master  of  Kill- 
crichtoun,  you  will  have  to  take  the  risk  with  the  rest." 

Such  were  the  reflections  of  Everage  as  he  bent  his  steps 
that  afternoon  to  the  Newton  Institute,  and  while  he  sat 
at  his  desk  examining  boys  in  their  Latin  and  Greek  exer- 
cises and  algebraic  and  geometrical  problems  ;  and  while 
he  sauntered  sorrowfully  and  wearily  home  to  his  gloomy 
lodgings. 

But  he  hated  himself  with  a  righteous  hatred  for  these 
evil  haunting  thoughts,  that  he  had  no  moral  power  to 
exorcise. 

From  what  he  had  heard  from  Lord  Killcrichtoun,  and 
from  what  he  had  observed  with  his  own  eyes,  some 
things  seemed  very  certain. 

As  that  Lord  Killcrichtoun  would  never  be  legally 
divorced  from  his  first  wife,  and  therefore  would  never 
be  free  to  take  a  second  ;  that  he  would  never  be  recon- 
ciled to  her,  and  therefore  never  have  another  child  ; 
that  his  lordship  was  in  a  very  bad  way  and  could  not 
long  hold  the  barony  of  Killcrichtoun  ;  and,  finally,  that 
little  Lenny  would  t>e  the  future  Baron  of  Killcrichtoun, 
unless  he  should  very  soon  die,  or — disappear  ;  and, 
finally,  that  little  Lenny  was  not  inclined  to  die  to  please 
anybody ! 

But  there  was  that  other  alternative : — he  might  disap- 
pear— he  might  disappear  as  children  had  often  done  be- 
fore now,  he  might  disapp«ar  forever. 

I  know  not  at  what  precise  time  this  last  alternative 
presented  itself  to  the  poor  gentleman's  mind.  But  it 
would  not  be  banished,  it  clung  to  him,  it  tempted  him, 
it  nearly  crazed  him. 

He  prowled  about  Trafalgar  square,  and  waylaid  little 
Lenny  and  his  nurse,  and  informed  himself  as  to  the 
child's  haunts  and  habits. 

If  Pina  never  spoke  of  this  "  poor  white  herring,"  as 
she  disrespectfully  called  him,  it  was  because  he  was  only 
one  of  several  persons  who,  passing  daily  at  the  hours 
the  nurse  would  be  out  with  the  child,  would  stop  to 


338  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

notice  him,  to  smile  on  him,  or — when  time  permitted — 
to  talk  to  him,  being  charmed  by  his  infantile  beauty, 
intelligence,  and  graciousness.  And,  even  if  the  nurse 
had  told  the  mother  of  this  stranger's  seeming  partiality 
for  the  child,  the  information  would  not  have  surprised 
her,  for  to  Brasilia  it  seemed  inevitable  that  every  one 
who  saw  her  peerless  boy  must  be  charmed  and  delighted 
with  his  beauty  and  brightness. 

So  unsuspected  and  unrestricted,  Everage  contrived  to 
see  a  great  deal  of  little  Lenny — a  great  deal  more  than 
even  his  father  saw  of  him. 

But  Alexander  was  entirely  ignorant  of  these  inter- 
views, for  Pina  did  not  love  little  Lenny's  father  well 
enough  to  gossip  with  him  on  that  or  any  other  subject, 
or  indeed  to  open  her  mouth  to  him  with  one  unneces- 
sary word. 

And  the  poor  gentleman,  for  his  part,  took  good  care 
never  to  approach  the  child  while  his  father  happened  to 
be  near  him. 

In  fact,  of  late  days,  Clarence  Everage  had  seen  but 
little  of  Lord  Killcrichtoun.  From  some  latent  sense  of 
honor  or  sting  of  conscience,  the  poor  gentleman  had 
kept  out  of  the  way  of  the  wealthy  baron.  Since  Everage 
had  been  speculating  on  the  chances  of  the  child's  death 
or  the  practicability  of  his  "  disappearance,"  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  look  that  child's  father  in  the  face,  much 
less  to  eat  or  drink  with  him,  as  had  for  a  time  been  his 
frequent  custom. 

But  Everage  brooded  over  the  possibility  of  little  Len- 
ny's "  disappearance,"  as  he  called  it,  until,  as  I  said,  it 
tempted,  blinded,  crazed  him. 

The  vague  dream  "  disappearance  "  began  to  shape  it- 
self into  the  very  distinct  idea,  "  ABDUCTION." 

Children  had  been  abducted  before  now,  for  less  reason 
and  with  more  difficulty  than  could  be  the  case  with  this 
child  ;  for  how  great  a  reason,  almost  how  just  a  cause, 
he  said  to  himself,  had  he  for  abducting  Leonard  Lyon  ; 
and  how  easily,  in  the  child's  unguarded  walks,  might  he 
be  snatched  up  and  carried  off ;  and  how  completely  in 
crowded  London  might  he  be  concealed. 

The  idea  grew  and  formed  itself  into  a  purpose. 


THE  ABDUCTION.  339 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  ABDUCTION. 

In  a  jumbled  heap  of  murky  building. — KEATS. 

THERE  was  at  this  time  a  wretched  old  hag  who,  sum- 
mer and  winter,  rain  and  shine,  sat  under  the  shadow  of 
St.  Mary's  le  Strand  begging — but  not  audibly,  for  to 
have  done  so  would  have  broken  the  municipal  laws,  and 
to  have  drawn  the  police  upon  her  and  consigned  her  to 
the  work-house. 

On  the  contrary,  she  was  ostensively  peddling  in  a 
small  way.  In  her  talon-like  hands  she  held  a  bundle  of 
matches,  which  she  silently  tendered  to  every  passer-by. 
The  matches  were  worthless  and  were  not  really  intended 
for  sale,  but  only  for  a  blind  to  the  police  and  a  cloak  for 
her  begging ;  and  everybody  understood  this  as  well  as 
she  did  ;  for  though  she  never  opened  her  lips  to  ask  for 
alms,  every  fluttering  rag  about  her  was  a  tongue,  and 
every  look  a  voice. 

So  occasionally  a  passer-by  would  drop  a  half-penny  in 
the  hand  that  offered  the  matches  and  then  go  on  his 
way. 

But  the  great  stream  of  people  pouring  through  that 
crowded  thoroughfare  usually  passed  without  noticing 
her,  for  the  frequency  of  such  sights,  and  of  much  worse 
sights  of  misery,  in  the  London  streets,  and  the  utter  im- 
possibility of  relieving  them  all,  hardens  the  hearts  of  the 
people. 

But  the  poor  pity  the  poor.  And  our  poor  gentleman, 
passing  the  poor  beggar  twice  every  day,  pitied  her — 
pitied  her,  even  though  she  had  once  picked  his  pocket  of 
his  coarse  white  linen  handkerchief,  and  he  knew  the  fact 
beyond  a  doubt.  And  almost  every  day,  in  passing,  he 
gave  her  a  half -penny ;  and  once  a  quarter,  when  he  got 
paid  off,  he  gave  her  a  sixpence. 

But  hi  all  the  years  in  which  she  had  sat  there,  and  in 


340  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

which  he  had  passed  twice  a  day  in  going  and  returning 
to  and  from  his  employment,  he  had  never  happened  to 
see  any  one  else  give  her  anything. 

Of  course  he  knew  that  she  must  make  something  by 
sitting  there  or  she  would  not  stay ;  but  it  was  so  very 
little  and  so  very  seldom,  that  he  never  knew  it  from 
personal  observation.  And  from  all  this  he  concluded 
that  she  was  deadly  poor. 

He  often  wondered  where  she  lived,  how  she  slept, 
what  she  ate,  with  whom  she  kept  company,  and  who 
were  her  kinsfolks,  if  she  had  any. 

That  she  consorted  with  the  lowest  thieves"  and  va- 
grants, with  the  most  desperate  men  and  women  ready 
for  any  crime,  he  felt  morally  certain.  Had  she  not 
picked  the  pocket  of  her  benefactor  ? 

But,  still  he  pitied  her  and  almost  justified  her ;  for  he 
knew  what  poverty  and  its  bitter  temptations  were,  and 
besides,  while  his  charity  was  large  his  moral  sense  was 
not  very  clear ;  and,  poor  as  he  was,  he  would  have  lost 
every  pocket-handkerchief  he  possessed  before  he  would 
have  prosecuted  this  miserable  old  woman,  or  even  with- 
held from  her  the  tri- weekly  half- penny  or  the  quarterly 
sixpence. 

Now,  when  the  vague  idea  of  "  disappearance  "  shaped 
itself  into  the  distinct  thought  of  ABDUCTION,  and  the 
thought  grew  into  a  purpose,  and  the  purpose  strength- 
ened into  resolution,  he  remembered  the  old  woman 
under  St.  Mary's  le  Strand,  and  believed  that  he  could 
make  her  subservient  to  his  use. 

One  rainy  day  he  went  out  at  noon  for  the  usual  recess. 
It  was  a  day  and  an  hour  when  there  were  comparatively 
few  passengers  in  the  street.  He  went  in  search  of  the 
old  woman  whom  he  found  in  her  accustomed  place,  but 
backed  up  close  against  the  wall  to  secure  some  partial 
shelter  from  the  pelting  ram. 

"Have  you  no  umbrella — not  even  an  old  wreck  of 
one  ?  "  were  the  first  words  addressed  to  her  by  Everage. 

u  Umberrelly  ?  Bless  the  dear  gentleman,  I  never  had 
a  umberrelly  in  my  life !  How  should  the  likes  of  me 
have  a  umberrelly  ?  They  bees  for  the  rich  people,  honey." 

"  But  your  knees  are  getting  quite  wet,"  said  Everage. 

"  And  so  they  is,  dear  gentleman,  and  I  shall  get  the 


THE  ABDUCTION.  341 

rheumatiz  as  sure  as  sure !  "  said  the  woman,  taking  the 
cue  and  beginning  to  whine. 

"  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  did.  Why  do  you  sit 
out  here  in  this  weather  ?  " 

"  Good  gentleman,  hadn't  I  better  sit  here  and  sell  my 
matches  than  stay  at  home  and  starve  ?  " 

"  Sell  your  matches  ?  Why,  that's  the  identical  box  of 
matches  you  have  had  to  sell  for  Heaven  knows  how 
long,  and  you  haven't  sold  it  yet." 

"  That  is  true  ;  but,  dear  gentleman,  I  might  sell  them 
to-day — I  might  sell  them  any  time  !  There  is  no  telling 
when  a  stroke  of  luck  might  fall." 

Everage  knew  she  was  speaking  deceitfully  ;  but  he  not 
only  found  excuses  for  her,  but  he  found  hi  her  words  an 
opening  for  his  proposition. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  you  are  quite  right.  There  is  no  tell- 
ing when  a  streak  of  luck  may  fall — even  this  very  day." 

"  It  has  come  this  very  day,  good  gentleman.  Sure  the 
sight  of  your  handsome  face  is  always  lucky ;  and  it  is 
worth  while  to  come  out  and  sit  in  the  rain  for  the  chance 
of  seeing  it,  if  one  should  get  no  other  good." 

"  The  sight  of  my  face  may  be  lucky  to  others ;  but  the 
luck  is  only  skin  deep  ;  it  never  strikes  in  to  do  the  owner 
any  good,"  laughed  Everage,  as  he  dropped  a  sixpence  in 
the  hag's  hand. 

"  Oh !  thanky,  sir  !  Sure  you're  the  great  binifactor  of 

the  poor!  May  the  Lord "  and  here  she  began  a 

great  string  of  blessings  to  which  a  bishop's  benediction 
would  seem  a  trifle. 

"That  will  do.  Now  tell  me  your  name.  You  see  as 
long  as  I  have  known  you  I  have  never  heard  it." 

"  Rooter,  sir ;  Margaret  Rooter,  at  your  honor's  service ; 
born  in  lawful  wedlock  of  honest  parients,  your  worship, 
and  christened  in  this  very  same  church  as  you  see  before 
you,  Sim-Merrily-Strand,*  sir,  as  ever  was." 

"  Well,  Mother  Rooter,"  said  the  poor  gentleman,  drop- 
ping his  voice  to  a  low  tone,  "  would  you  do  a  service  for 
me,  if  it  should  be  to  your  own  advantage  ?  " 

"  Is  it  would  I  do  a  service  for  your  honor's  worship  ?  " 
said  the  woman,  gazing  on  the  coin  in  her  hand  and 
chuckling,  for  she  readily  divined  that  the  required  serv- 
*  St.  Mary's  le  Strand. 


342  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

ice  was  an  unlawful  one,  which  must  be  paid  for  hand- 
somely  "  on  the  nail,"  and  ever  afterwards  in  the  shape  of 
of  blackmail.  "  And  is  it  Margaret  Rooter  as  you  ask 
will  she  do  that  service  for  her  binnyfactor,  as  he  has 
kept  her  from  starving  this  many  a  day  ?  Aye,  will  I, 
even  if  it  is  to  the  setting  on  fire  of  Northumberland 
House,  or  Sim-Merrily- Strand  itself.  Marry  come  up  in- 
deed !  What  has  Northumberland  House,  or  Sim-Merrily- 
Strand  either,  ever  done  for  the  likes  of  me,  that  I  should 
prefer  them  before  your  honor's  worship,  whose  bounty 
have  given  me  many  a  half  ounce  of  tea  and  handful  of 
coal  ?  Sim-Merrily-  Strand  indeed !  " 

"  But  I  have  no  grudge  against  the  church,  or  the 
palace  either,  and  wish  them  no  harm,  but  all  good.  The 
service  I  require  of  you  is  of  another  sort,  but  almost 
equally  dangerous  and  needing " 

"  I  don't  care  a  pen'orth  of  gin  what  it  needs,  nor  what 
it  don't,  no,  nor  yet  for  the  danger,  so  as  it  ain't  killing 
and  hanging  matter.  I  never  could  pluck  up  courage  to 
take  a  life  or  to  risk  the  gallows.  But  as  for  the  rest — 
look  here,  your  honor !  what  has  the  likes  of  a  poor  crea- 
ture like  me  to  be  afraid  of  in  this  world  ?  Is  it  the 
police  ?  Is  it  the  judge  ?  Is  it  the  jail  ?  Lord  love 
your  honor,  the  police  treat  me  better  nor  my  own 
brothers,  for  they  never  punch  my  head,  nor  give  me 
black  eyes !  and  the  judge  is  a  gentleman  compared  to 
my  landlord,  for  he  never  turned  me  out  into  the  street, 
as  every  one  of  them  is  sure  to  do  sooner  or  later.  And 
as  for  the  prison,  it  is  a  perfect  queen's  palace,  compared 
to  the  leaky,  crowded,  filthy  garret  where  I  stop.  Your 
honor  must  know  I  have  been  in  both  and  know  the 
differ  !  So  as  I  was  taking  the  liberty  to  tell  your  honor, 
if  the  service  is  anything  less  than  a  hanging  matter,  I'm 
your  woman." 

"  Speak  lower  when  you  do  speak ;  but  do  not  speak  at 
all  when  people  are  passing  by,"  said  Everage,  in  a  very 
low  tone,  as  some  street  passengers  hurried  along. 

"  There,  your  honor,  they  have  gone  now.  Now  about 
this  service,  your  honor  ? "  said  the  old  woman,  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Well,  it  is  no  hanging  matter,  nor  anything  of  the  sort. 
But  it  is  a  secret  service  for  all  that,"  replied  Everage. 


THE  ABDUCTION.  343 

"  A  secret  service,  your  honor's  worship  !  Ah,  that  is 
what  my  heart  delights  in !  Ah,  then,  I  have  done  more 
than  one  secret  service  for  gentlemen  of  the  highest  rank ! 
aye,  and  for  ladies  too,  bless  them !  and  got  well  paid  foi 
them  besides  !  enough  money  to  have  kept  me  in  clover 
all  my  life,  only  it  always  got  stole  from  me  by  the 
wretches  in  the  house." 

"  Well,  you  must  take  better  care  of  the  money  which 
I  shall  pay  you.  But  what  was  the  nature  of  these  secret 
services  of  which  you  speak." 

"  Ah,  your  honor's  worship,  if  I  were  to  tell  you  that 
they  wouldn't  be  a  secret  any  longer,  and  neither  would 
you  trust  such  an  old  blabber  as  me  with  your  secrets," 
said  the  old  woman,  leering  wickedly. 

"  That  is  so,"  said  Everage  ;  "  and,  besides,  this  is  no 
place  for  carrying  on  a  private  conversation.  Here  comes 
another  group  of  people  quite  close." 

The  group  came  and  passed. 

"  Xow,  then,  Mother  Rooter,  tell  me  where  you  live,  if 
you  have  no  objection,  and  whether  I  can  find  you  at  home 
if  I  come  to  you  this  evening,  so  that  we  may  arrange 
this  affair,"  said  Everage,  as  soon  as  the  coast  was  again 
clear. 

"Is  it  where  I  live  your  honor  asks  me?  That's  a 
good  'un !  Do  you  call  it  living  ?  this  life  I  lead.  No, 
your  honor,  it  is  not  living,  it  is  lingering." 

"  Where,  then,  do  you  linger  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,  sir,  I  draws  my  breath  and  stretches  my 
bones  in  the  back  attic  of  No.  9  Blood  Alley,  Burke 
Lane,  Black  Street,  Blackfriars  Road.  All  B's,  your 
honor.  You  can  remember  it  by  that.  The  house  is 
Number  Nine.  They  keep  a  bone  and  grease  shop  in  the 
cellar,  and  rags  and  bottles  on  the  first  floor,  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  house  is  let  to  lodgers,  all  poor,  but  I  the 
the  poorest,  your  worship." 

«  And  shall  I  come  to  you  there  ?  n 

"  If  your  worship  will  do  me  the  honor." 

"  But  the  house,  which  seems  from  your  description  to 
be  a  tenement  house  of  the  worst  order " 

"  Aye,  you  may  say  that,  your  worship,"  interrupted 
the  old  woman ;  "  but  what  is  a  poor  body  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  was  about  to  observe  that  the  house  would  be  full, 


344  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

crowded,  so  much  so  that  perhaps  even  your  own  back 
attic  has  other  tenants." 

"  And  so  it  has,  your  honor's  worship." 

"  In  which  case  I  do  not  see  how  I  am  to  have  an  op- 
portunity of  speaking  to  you  in  private  there  more  than 
here." 

"  Oh,  dear  gentleman,  if  you  come  at  nine  o'clock,  you'll 
catch  me  alone.  Sure  they'll  all  be  out  then  on  their 
tramps,  and  they  won't  be  in  much  before  morning.  And 
sure  your  honor's  worship  might  even  trust  them,  see- 
ing as  they're  all  my  own  family,  and  would  be  fast  as 
fast  and  safe  as  safe  in  any  secret  service  as  I  might  un- 
dertake. And  your  honor  knows  best  whether  you 
mightn't  want  their  aid  too,  in  sommut  where  they  might 
be  of  use.  I  don't  know  yet  what  your  service  is,  your 
honor.  You  haven't  told  me  yet.  But  I  know  I  am  an  ole 
'ornan,  your  honor's  worship,  and  might  want  help,  hi 
case  the  service  might  require  strength,  like  the  breaking 
into  a  house  and  the  bringing  off  of  a  dockerment  or  a 
young  lady." 

"  It  is  none  of  these  things,  as  you  might  have  judged, 
else  I  should  not  have  come.  Yet  it  is  akin  to  one  sup- 
position that  you  have  advanced;  and  you  really  may 
want  help.  Who  are  the  people  that  share  your  attic 
room  and  your  confidence  ?  But,  hush  !  here  come  some 
of  the  other  passengers ;  wait  till  they  have  gone." 

The  two  conspirators  were  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
when  they  had  their  corner  to  themselves  again,  Ever- 
age  repeated  his  question,  and  the  old  woman  answered : 

"  Who  are  they  ?  you  ask  me,  sir.  Well,  there  is,  first 
of  all,  my  two  brothers,  as  honest,  trusty  lads " 

" '  As  ever  scuttled  ship,  or  cut  a  throat,' "  suggested 
Everage. 

"  Yes,  that  they  are,  sir ;  and  so  you'll  find  them,"  said 
the  old  woman,  who  did  not  understand,  or,  perhaps,  did 
not  distinctly  hear  the  quotation, — "  honest  and  trusty, 
and  true  and  good." 

"  Although  they  knock  your  head  about  ?  "  observed 
Everage,  who  had  not  forgotten  that  piece  of  news. 

"  Oh,  your  worship,  that  was  drink ;  it  wasn't  to  say 
them." 

«  Ay  1  « when  the  wine's  in  the  wit's  out,'  I  suppose." 


THE  ABDUCTION.  345 

"  Just  so,  your  honor ;  though  it's  precious  little  wine 
they  gets,  poor  souls.  It's  most  hi  general  beer,  or,  if 
they're  in  luck,  gin." 

"  Aye,  to  be  sure !  Well,  if  they  serve  me  faithfully, 
they  and  you  shall  be  kept  hi  gin  the  rest  of  your  lives." 

"  Oh,  your  honor's  worship's  reverence,  that  would  be 
heavenly,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Rooter,  with  enthusiasm. 
"  They'll  be  true  to  you,  sir — they'll  be  true  to  you  till 
death  do  you  part,  and  arterwards,  sir  !  and  arterwards  ; 
for  I  never  could  see  the  good  of  being  true  till  death  and 
then  turning  false  to  you  arter  you're  dead,  or  arter  they 
are." 

"  No,  to  be  sure.  But  about  these  brothers  of  yours, — 
are  they  the  only  persons,  or  are  there  any  others  who 
share  your  attic  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  sir ;  there's  my  grand-darter  Meg,  as  hon- 
est and  truthful  a  gal  as  ever " 

"  Picked  a  pocket,  or  told  a  falsehood." 

"  No,  sir,  she  don't,  nor  she  wouldn't  do  nyther  the  one 
nor  yet  the  other — not  even  in  the  way  of  business,  as 
many  an  honest  tradesman  do." 

"  But  that's  rather  hard  on  the  honest  tradesman,  is  it 
not  ?  "  smiled  Everage. 

"  Gurr-r-r ! "  exclaimed  the  old  woman,  grinning  and 
showing  her  snags  of  teeth.  "  Gurr-r-r  !  They  hunt  us 
poor  creatures  away  from  their  shops  and  stalls,  accusing 
of  us  of  prowling  about  to  see  what  we  can  pick  up,  when 
all  they  theirselves  is  a  doing  of  the  gentlefolks  to  no 
end !  Don't  tell  me !  " 

"  But  about  this  girl  ?  Is  she — your  granddaughter — 
and  her  uncles,  the  only  inmates  of  your  attic  chamber  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  honor,  the  onliest  ones,  and  quite  to  be 
depended  on." 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  will  look  in  at  your  place  at  nine 
o'clock  this  evening." 

"  And  much  good  may  it  do  your  honor  and  us,  too. 
The  Lord  bless  you,  sir.  But  mind  and  don't  forget,  your 
honor's  reverence,  the  four  B's  and  Number  Nine." 

"  I  will  not  forget.     I  have  it  down  in  niy  note- book." 

And  then,  as  another  bevy  of  foot-passengers  came  hur- 
rying along  the  sidewalk,  Everage  left  the  crone  and 
went  on  his  way. 


346  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

At  a  few  minutes  past  eight,  Clarence  Everage  found 
himself  prowling  down  Blackfriars'  Road  in  search  of  a 
street  that  I  have  called  Black  street ;  but  which,  in  fact, 
is  very  unfavorably  known  to  the  police  under  another 
name. 

He  found  it  at  length  ;  and  looking  down  its  cavernous 
mouth,  he  thought  of  Dore's  picture  of  the  entrance  to  the 
infernal  regions. 

He  shuddered  as  he  turned  into  Black  street,  and  fol- 
lowed its  windings  down  into  a  labyrinth  of  dark  and 
lurid  lanes  and  alleys,  from  which  sunlight  and  fresh  air 
must  have  been  almost  totally  excluded,  even  at  noonday. 

Here  every  sense  and  sentiment  was  shocked  and  re- 
volted. The  streets  were  narrow  and  murky,  muddy  and 
filthy.  The  houses  were  old  and  shattered,  and  bent  for- 
ward towards  each  other  till  the  eaves  of  the  roofs  almost 
met  overhead,  shutting  out  much  of  the  light  and  the  air 
that  might  have  visited  the  accursed  place.  The  sides  of 
the  houses  were  disfigured  by  broken  and  stained  window 
sashes  filled  up  with  old  rags  and  hats,  and  by  foul  and 
dilapidated  doorways,  occupied,  for  the  most  part,  by  rum- 
stupefied  men  and  women,  and  by  neglected  and  drowsy 
children.  Those  groups  were  generally  in  semi-obscurity 
but  here  and  there  a  street  lamp  from  without,  or  a  dim 
candle  from  within,  lighted  up  their  misery. 

"  Heavens  and  earth ! "  thought  Everage,  holding  his 
handkerchief  to  his  mouth  and  nose  as  he  threaded  his  way 
through  the  mazes  of  this  Gehenna  in  search  of  Blood 
Ally  and  Burke  Lane,  "  these  must  be  the  waste  pipes  of 
all  London's  crime,  disease  and  miseries  ;  and  yes,  by  my 
life,  this  is  the  sink ! "  he  added,  stopping  in  the  very 
center  of  the  labyrinth  before  Number  Nine. 

The  house  was  taller,  older,  dirtier,  and  more  dilapidated 
than  any  he  had  yet  seen.  It  leaned  forward  as  if  ambi- 
tious of  meeting  and  saluting  its  leaning  opposite  neighbor, 
and  it  looked  as  if  it  were  in  danger  of  toppling  down  in 
the  attempt. 

Here  also  the  doorway  was  foul  and  broken,  and  crowded 
with  drunken  and  dirty  men  and  women. 

Everage  inquired  of  this  group  if  this  was  Number 
Nine,  and  if  Mother  Rooter  lived  here. 

They  stared  at  him  for  a  minute  without  replying,  and 


THE  ABDUCTION.  347 

then  all  burst  out  laughing,  while  one  woman  called  to 
some  one  within  the  passage : 

"  Hallo,  Meg,  come  here !  Here's  a  gentleman  a- want- 
ing of  Mistress  Rooter.  He  have  come  with  the  queen's 
compliments  to  her." 

A  brown-skinned,  black-haired,  bare-legged  gipsy  of 
about  fourteen  years  old  came  out  of  the  obscurity,  and 
accosted  Everage. 

"Be  thou  the  gentleman  as  grannam  was  a- looking 
for  ?  " 

"  If  your  grandam  is  Mrs.  Rooter, — yes,"  answered 
Everage  scrutinizing  the  girl,  and  recognizing  her  from 
the  description  given  by  the  crone. 

"  Come  along  then,"  said  Meg,  leading  the  way  through 
passages  and  up  staircases  more  foul  and  nauseating  to 
sight  and  smell  than  even  the  middle  of  the  streets  had 
been — for  the  streets  do  sometimes  get  washed  off  by 
rain,  whereas  these  tenement-house  passages  seem  never 
to  have  that  advantage. 

Everage  followed  his  guide  up  four  flights  of  stairs,  no- 
ticing, as  he  passed  along  the  halls  of  each  floor,  through 
the  open  or  half-open  doors,  heart-sickening  and  revolt- 
ing sights  of  vice  and  misery  within  the  room. 

At  the  top  of  the  last  flight  of  stairs  himself  and  his 
young  guide  reached  the  attic  landing. 

She  beckoned  and  led  him  to  a  door,  which  she  opened. 

He  followed  her  into  a  back  room,  with  a  low,  sloping 
ceiling.  It  was  wretchedly  furnished,  or  rather  bare  of 
furniture, — a  bed  which  was  a  mere  heap  of  foul  rags,  a 
shaky  little  wooden  table,  a  rickety  chair,  a  rusty  iron 
kettle,  and  a  cracked  tea-cup  and  saucer  were  the  only 
means  and  appliances  of  comfort  or  necessity  there. 

The  only  person  in  the  room  was  old  Mother  Rooter, 
who  was  squatted  on  the  only  chair,  with  her  elbows  on 
her  knees  and  her  head  in  her  hands. 

She  got  up  to  meet  her  visitor,  and  gave  him  her  chair, 


rou  are  very  welcome  to  my  poor  place,  kind  gentle- 
man. Sit  down,  sir." 

And  she  seated  herself  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  that  he 
might  not  hesitate  to  take  the  chair. 

He  looked  at  the  proffered  seat,  and  took  from  hia 


348  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

pocket  a  newspaper,  and  spread  over  the  bottom  of  the 
chair  before  sitting  down  on  it. 

"  Ah,  sir,  I  see — you  gentlefolks  blame  us  a  deal  for  be- 
ing dirty,  but  how  can  we  help  it?  We  can't  get  bread 
enough  to  eat ;  and  where  are  we  to  get  the  extra  penny 
to  buy  a  bit  of  soap  to  wash  ourselves  and  our  houses,  or 
the  horn-comb  to  red  up  our  hair,  not  to  say  the  sixpence 
to  buy  a  broom.  Ah,  sir,  you  gentlefolks  should  know 
what  you  are  a-talking  on  before  you  blame  us,  poor 
creatures,  for  dirt." 

"  I  am  not  blaming  you,"  said  Everage. 

And  then,  to  change  the  subject,  he  remarked : 

"  You  are  very  high  up  here  ;  you  are  high  up  in  the 
world  in  one  sense,  if  you  are  not  in  another." 

"  Ah,  yes,  sir !  but  what  am  I  to  do  ?  The  garret  or 
the  cellar  is  the  choice  us  poor  creatures  has  to  make. 
All  the  house  between  them  is  too  dear  for  the  likes  of 
us.  And  be  the  same  token,  there's  little  to  choose  a- 
tween  them.  It's  hard  on  an  ole  'oman  like  me  to  live 
up  here  ;  and  when,  of  an  evening,  I'm  a-panting  up  all 
these  stairs, — sir,  there's  ninety  on  'em, — steps,  I  mean — 
I  know  it  to  my  sorrow,  for  I  have  counted  on  'em  often, 
as  I  panted  up  'em,  and  stopped  on  every  landing  to  catch 
my  breath, — well,  sir,  I  often  think  it  would  be  better  to 
live  in  a  cellar.  But  then,  I  thinks,  as  once  I  did  live  in 
a  cellar  and  catch  the  rheumatism  by  it.  So  on  the 
whole,  I  says  to  myself,  it  is  better  to  climb  and  to  pant 
nor  to  lie  flat  on  my  back  and  groan." 

"  And  your  choice  was  a  very  wise  one.  But  listen  : 
if  you  are  faithful  to  me  in  the  service  you  have  under- 
taken to  perform,  you  shall  live  in  a  first-floor  front  of 
any  such  a  house  as  this,  until  I  shall  be  better  able  to 
provide  for  you — which  I  certainly  shall  be,  if  you  should 
be  successful  and  faithful." 

"  Bless  your  honor !  I  will  be  faithful  as  faithful.  But 
you  haven't  told  me  yet  what  the  service  is  a-going  to  be." 

"  I  came  here  to-night  to  tell  you,  and  I  will  tell  you 
now — but,  is  the  coast  clear  ?  "  anxiously  inquired  Ever- 
age, looking  around  and  seeing  that  the  girl,  Meg,  at  least 
had  disappeared,  and  that  himself  and  the  crone  were 
alone  or  seemed  to  be  so. 

"Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Rooter,  "the   coast  is  clear. 


THE  ABDUCTION.  349 

My  brothers  have  not  left  the  house  though,  because  I 
hinted  to  'em  as  they  might  light  upon  a  job." 

"  Where  are  they,  then  ?  " 

"  Up  on  the  leads.  I  sent  them  there  to  wait  your 
honor's  pleasure.  And  there  they  shall  stay  till  your 
honor  bids  me  call  them  down.  If  so  be  you  would 
rather  trust  the  business  to  me  alone,  I  will,  if  I  can,  do 
it  alone  and  they  shall  never  know  anything  of  it;  but 
if  your  honor  chooses  to  trust  'em,  which  I  make  bold 
to  say — they  are  just  trusty  as  trusty — why  I'll  go  call 
them." 

"  Go  and  call  them — I  will  take  a  look  at  them,  at  all 
events,"  said  Everage. 

The  beldam  went  out  into  the  passage,  and  climbed  a 
ladder  leading  to  the  open  trap-door  of  the  roof,  and  sum- 
moned her  brothers ;  and  presently  their  heavy  steps 
came  lumbering  down  the  ladder  ;  and  she  brought  them 
into  the  presence  of  Everage. 

They  were  two  ill-looking  fellows  enough,  somewhere 
between  forty  and  fifty  years  of  age. 

The  elder  was  tall,  sallow,  black-haired  and  black- 
eyed 

The  younger  was  short  and  thick-set,  with  broad 
shoulders,  bull  neck  and  bullet  head  covered  with  a  thick 
shock  of  red  hair. 

Both  men  were  in  rags. 

They  came  and  stood  before  Everage  and  pulled  their 
forelocks  by  way  of  salutation. 

"  Well,  my  men,  are  you  to  be  trusted  in  a  service  the 
faithful  performance  of  which  will  accrue  to  your  own 
profit  ?  "  inquired  Everage,  as  he  scanned  his  "  tools." 

Now  the  only  ideas  the  ruffians  gamed  from  this  speech 
was  that  there  were  secret  services  required,  for  which 
money  was  to  be  paid.  So  one  of  them,  the  dark  one,  re- 
plied : 

"  What  we  undertakes  to  do,  your  honor,  that  we  does 
faithful.  But  it  depends  on  what  the  service  is,  and  hovr 
it  pays,  whether  we  undertakes  it." 

"But  if  we  undertakes  it,  we  performs  it  faithful," 
added  the  other,  the  red  one. 

"  Then,  Mother  Rooter,  secure  the  door ;  and  now  all 
gather  around  me.  You  two  men,  and  you,  mother,  sit 


350  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

upon  the  bedside,  and  bend  close  to  me  as  I  sit  upon  the 
chair  before  you." 

The  three  arranged  themselves  as  their  employer 
directed. 

Then  he,  stooping  towards  them,  and  they  towards  him, 
so  that  all  their  mischief-brewing  heads  were  together, 
began  in  a  low  whisper  to  unfold  his  plans.  He  came  im- 
mediately to  the  point. 

"  It  is  a  child  to  be  carried  off,"  he  said,  and  then 
waited  for  the  effect  of  his  words.  He  saw  that  they  were 
rather  stunning  even  to  these  reckless  villains. 

"  A  child  to  ue  carried  off,  your  honor !  that's  not  over 
easy  nor  yet  over  safe,"  said  the  dark  ruffian. 

"  Nor  are  you  ever  paid  handsomely  for  jobs  that  are 
over  easy  and  over  safe !  But  I  can  tell  you  one  thing — 
it  is  not  over  difficult  nor  over  dangerous." 

"  Is  it  from  a  house,  your  honor  ?  "  inquired  the  dark 
ruffian. 

"  No,  from  the  streets." 

"  Carry  off  a  child  from  the  crowded  streets  of  London, 
your  honor  ?  That  seems  to  be  impossible,"  put  hi  the 
red  ruffian. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Roger,"  said  his  black  brother. 

"  Now,  don't  go  quarrel  before  the  gentleman  !  Man- 
ners is  manners.  If  so  be,  you're  decent  men,  behave  as 
sich !  "  put  in  the  crone. 

"  I  only  said  it  was  impossible  to  carry  off  a  child  from 
the  streets  of  London  ;  and  I'll  not  deceive  the  gentleman. 
I'll  stick  to  it,  as  it  is,"  persisted  Red  Roger,  who  was 
called  thus  by  his  "  pals." 

u  You  will  find  that  it  is  very  easy.  I  have  studied  it 
out  and  matured  a  plan  that  must  be  perfectly  success- 
ful." 

"  Let  us  hear  it,  your  honor,"  said  the  black  one. 

"  Well,  listen,"  whispered  Everage,  in  a  very  low  voice. 
"  This  child  is  about  two  years  and  a  half  old.  He  is  the 
child  of  foreign  parents  who  know  not  much  of  English 
life.  He  is  sent  out  with  his  nurse,  a  black  girl  who 
wears  a  plaid  turban  instead  of  a  bonnet ;  you  may  know 
her  by  that.  He  is  sent  out  with  this  girl  morning  and 
evening  of  every  fair  day.  She  is  a  fool,  and  she  takes  him 
about  Trafalgar  square  and  up  and  down  the  street,  and 


THE  ABDUCTION,  351 

to  St.  Mary  le  Strand  and  along  Fleet  Street.  And  they 
stop  and  gaze  in  the  shop  windows,  and  stand  with  the 
crowd  around  every  organ-grinder  and  monkey,  and  es- 
pecially around  every  Punch  and  Judy.  This  is  my  plan, 
I  will  take  an  opportunity  to  point  out  the  nurse  and 
child  to  Mother  Rooter.  She  can  afterwards  point  them 
out  to  you.  Once  having  seen  them,  you  cannot  possibly 
mistake  them.  Are  you  attending  to  me  ?  " 

"  With  all  our  ears,  sir,"  answered  the  black  villain, 
while  the  red  one  nodded  emphatically. 

"  Then  listen !  when  you  have  once  seen  this  nurse  and 
child,  you  must  watch  for  them,  and  arrange  something 
like  this  mano?uvre  between  you :  One  must  be  the  ab- 
ductor, the  other  must  be  the  assistant.  The  one  who  is 
to  carry  off  the  child  must  have  in  his  pocket  a  bottle  of 
chloroform.  Do  you  know  what  that  is  ?  " 

"  Don't  we,  sir  ?  It  has  saved  the  slitting  of  many  a 
windpipe !  "  chuckled  the  red  wretch. 

"  Very  well.  Let  the  one  who  is  to  carry  off  the  child 
take  a  bottle  of  chloroform,  which  I  will  provide ;  also  a 
dark  shawl.  Then  watch  until  you  see  the  child  and  nurse 
standing  in  some  crowd  around  a  street  show.  Then,  the 
abductor  must  keep  very  near  the  child,  having  the  shawl 
and  the  chloroform  at  hand.  The  assistant  may  then  go 
farther  up  or  down  the  street  and  at  the  right  moment 
raise  the  hue  and  cry  of  '  Stop  thief ! '  and  lead  the  chase 
up  or  down  the  street  towards  the  crowd  hi  which  the 
child  stands.  Then  let  him  who  is  to  carry  off  the  child 
uncork  his  chloroform  and  have  it  ready,  snatch  up  the 
child,  throw  the  shawl  quickly  over  his  head,  and  run 
with  the  rest,  shouting  '  Stop  thief ! '  at  the  top  of  his 
voice  ;  but  all  the  time  letting  the  fumes  of  the  chloroform 
escape  within  the  folds  of  the  shawl,  so  as  to  overpower 
the  child  and  render  him  incapable  of  struggling  or  call- 
ing out." 

"  But  it  might  kill  the  baby,  and  that  would  be  murder 
and  we  don't  want  nothink  to  do  with  sich  at  no  price," 
objected  the  black  scamp. 

"  Do  you  think,  Bill,  as  the  gentleman  would  ax  us  to 
do  murder  ?  I  don't.  True,  there  might  be  a  accident 
from  chloroform,  as  there  often  bees  to  the  'capitals,  but 
that  wouldn't  be  murder,"  said  Red  Roger. 


352  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  You'd  find  as  the  jury  would  bring  it  in  murder," 
answered  Black  Bill. 

"  There  is  no  sort  of  danger.  I  will  only  put  enough  of 
the  stuff  in  the  bottle  to  quiet  the  child,  and  not  enough 
even  to  make  him  insensible.  Besides  am  I  not  as  respon- 
sible for  the  thing  as  you  are  ?  " 

"  Well,  your  honor  knows  best !  "  said  the  black  scamp. 

"  And  now  let  me  go  on.  As  soon  as  the  child  is  quiet, 
leave  the  rushing  crowd  that  your  brother  is  still  leading 
with  his  cry  of  « stop  thief ; '  leave  it  leisurely,  and  take 
the  nearest  cut  for  Blackfriars'  Road  and  your  mother's, 
no,  sister's  room,  here.  Here  you  may  conceal  him  until 
I  can  take  him  off  your  hands.  Do  you  understand  this  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  honor.     But  now,  how  about  the  pay  ?  " 

"  You  shall  have  five  pounds  each  down,  as  soon  as  I  see 
the  child  in  your  hands.  You  shall  have  all  the  jewelry 
that  you  find  on  his  person,  which,  as  I  have  seen  pearls 
and  turquoise  among  them,  may  amount  to  as  much  more, 
or  twice  as  much  more.  And  finally,  when  I  shall  reap 
the  advantage  that  I  expect  from  this  child's  disappear- 
ance, you  shall  have  a  comfortable  income  from  me  for 
the  rest  of  your  lives." 

The  men  wrangled  and  haggled  with  their  employer 
for  a  higher  price  for  their  crime,  and  after  much  dispute 
obtained  their  own  terms — ten  pounds  each  down  and  a 
crown  a  week  for  keeping  the  child. 

After  this,  Everage  left  the  house,  promising  to  see 
Mother  Rooter  at  her  stall  the  next  day  and  every  day, 
until  he  should  have  a  chance  of  pointing  out  the  boy  and 
nurse  to  her,  that  she  might  afterwards  show  them  to  her 
brothers. 

Everage  kept  his  word,  and  the  next  morning  stopped 
on  his  way  to  his  school,  to  leave  a  bottle  of  chloroform 
on  Mother  Rooter's  stand,  and  to  watch  for  the  possible 
appearance  of  little  Lenny  and  his  nurse,  on  their  morn- 
ing walk. 

The  demon  helped  Everage  to  wonderful  luck,  for  pres- 
ently came  Pina  leading  little  Lenny,  by  the  hand. 

They  passed  quite  close  to  where  the  crone  squatted 
and  Everage  stood.  They  seemed  to  be  going  up  Fleet 
street,  upon  some  little  shopping  errand. 

Everage  turned  his  back  upon  them  until  they  had 


THE  ABDUCTION.  353 

passed  and  had  their  backs  to  him.    Then  he  touched  the 
beldam  and  pointed  them  out  to  her. 

"  There  they  are.     Shall  you  know  them  again  ?  " 

"  Why,  I'd  know  'em  among  a  hundred  !  That  black 
gal,  with  the  plaid  turban  on  her  head,  isn't  easy  forgot, 
nor  yet  the  beautiful  boy,  with  all  that  finery  about  him ! 
which  it's  a  world's  wonder  I  never  noticed  of  'em  be- 
fore !  "  said  the  beldam. 

"  You  would  not  have  noticed  them  now,  perhaps,  if  I 
hadn't  pointed  them  out." 

"  Well,  maybe  not,  to  be  sure.  I  don't  commonly  look 
after  children  and  nursemaids." 

"  But  you  will  remember  them  now,  and  take  the  first 
opportunity  of  pointing  them  out  to  your  brothers." 

"  I'll  bet  you !  Beg  your  honor's  pardon.  One  or 
t'other  on  'em  will  be  here  morning  and  evening  until  I 
gets  a  chance  to  show  'em.  And  be  the  same  token,  here 
comes  Bill  now." 

"  So  he  does ;  well,  keep  him  here  till  the  nurse  and 
child  return ;  they  will  have  to  come  back  this  way ;  and 
then  you  can  point  them  out  to  him.  And  now  my  time 
is  up,"  said  the  poor  gentleman,  looking  at  his  gold  re- 
peater, a  family  heirloom,  the  sole  relic  of  better  days  that 
had  not  yet  been  dedicated  to  the  necessities  of  his  wife 
and  children;  but  was  destined  soon  to  be  sacrificed  to 
raise  money  to  pay  the  instruments  of  his  meditated  crime. 

Everage  then  hurried  away  to  his  school  duties,  leaving 
the  beldam  and  her  accomplice  to  carry  out  his  instruc- 
tions. 

As  you,  of  course,  already  know,  the  plot  was  accom- 
plished. 

Little  Lenny  was  carried  off  in  the  manner  planned  by 
Everage ;  and  afterwards  described  by  Pina. 

He  was  a  brave  little  fellow,  and  when  he  saw  a  great 
crowd  of  people  rushing  on  and  crying,  "  Stop  thief ; M 
and  when  he  felt  himself  caught  up  in  the  arms  of  a 
strange  man,  and  hurried  along  with  the  rest,  he  only 
supposed  some  frolic  was  afoot,  and  he  laughed  and 
shouted,  "  Top  Teef !  "  with  all  the  strength  of  his  baby 
lungs. 

But  soon  the  fumes  of  the  chloroform  overpowered  him^ 
and  his  head  dropped  on  the  shoulder  of  his  captor. 
23 


354  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Black  Bill,  keeping  the  old  shawl  over  the  child,  taking 
his  way  through  the  darkened  streets  and  lanes,  at  length 
bore  his  prize  safely  to  Number  Nine,  Blood  Alley. 

He  hurried  up-stairs  to  the  attic  room  and  placed  the 
still  unconscious  child  in  the  arms  of  the  beldam,  who 
was  there  seated  in  her  only  chair. 

"  There,  Peg !  uncover  him  quick  and  do  some'at  to 
bring  the  life  back  to  him,"  said  Black  Bill,  a  little  nerv- 
ously, as  he  himself  with  eager  hands  helped  to  relieve 
the  boy  of  the  shawl. 

"  Meg ! "  called  the  crone  to  her  granddaughter,  "  fetch 
a  cup  of  water  here.  Bill,  run  and  fetch  a  little  rum." 

Meg,  who  was  idling  about  the  place,  ran  and  fetched 
a  cup  of  water  from  the  nearest  room-neighbor. 

Mother  Rooter  dipped  her  fingers  in  the  cup  and  sprin- 
kled it  in  the  boy's  face.  The  air  had  already  half  revived 
him,  and  the  water  completed  the  work.  "  With  a  gasp 
and  a  sneeze  the  little  fellow  awoke. 

They  gathered  around  him,  those  wretches,  like  a  pack 
of  wolves  around  a  lamb. 

One  tore  off  his  pearl  and  turquoise  necklace  ;  another 
seized  his  hat  and  feather ;  another  his  sash  ;  another  his 
jeweled  armlets.  What  a  prize  ! 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

LITTLE  LENNY'S   ADVENTURES. 

Oh !  'tis  a  peerless  boy, 
Fearless,  ingenuous,  courteous,  capable  : 
He's  all  the  mother's,  from  the  top  to  toe.— -SHAKESPEARE. 

WAS  little  Lenny  frightened  when  he  woke  up  airf 
found  himself  in  that  strange  and  wretched  garret,  closely 
surrounded  by  new  and  terrible  faces  ? 

Not  at  all.  Neither  by  nature  nor  by  training  was  the 
baby- boy  a  coward.  The  child  of  many  generations  of 
heroes  had  inherited  no  craven  fears ;  the  cherished  dull- 
ing of  the  household  had  been  taught  none. 

In  a  word,  he  was  a  plucky  little  fellow,  afraid  of  neither 
man,  beast  or  devil. 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ADVENTURES.  355 

And  there  was  still  another  reason  why  on  this  occa- 
sion he  was  not  afraid.  For  if,  as  it  has  been  written  by 
the  prince  of  poets,  "  music  hath  charms  to  soothe  the 
savage  breast,"  how  much  more  hath  beautiful  and  gra- 
cious childhood ? 

The  wretched  men  and  women,  gathered  around  this 
pretty  boy,  looked  on  him,  not  with  ferocious  faces,  but 
with  smiles  ;  and  not  with  the  deceitful  smiles  whose  in- 
sincerity a  child  will  detect  more  quickly  than  an  adult 
can,  but  real,  heartfelt  smiles,  called  up  by  seeing  among 
them  "  something  better  than  they  had  known." 

Yes,  even  while  they  were  wresting  from  him  his  little 
treasures  of  finery  and  jewelry,  they  did  it  with  an  ex- 
pression of  eagerness  rather  than  of  ferocity. 

And  little  Lenny  gazed  on  them,  turning  his  blue  eyes 
from  one  to  another,  not  in  fear,  but  in  wonder  and  curios- 
ity. Sometimes  he  was  so  much  amused  by  their  excite- 
ment that  he  laughed  aloud. 

But  he  was  as  a  little  prince,  king,  or  god  among  these* 
poor  creatures,  and  he  knew  it.  For  when  Red  Roger 
unclasped  and  snatched  his  elegant  pearl  and  turquoise 
necklace  from  his  neck,  he  suddenly  put  out  his  chubby 
hand  and  snatched  it  back — so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly 
that  he  actually  gained  possession  of  it  again  before  the 
slow  and  lumbering  brute  could  prevent  him.  And  after 
he  did  so  he  fixed  his  eyes  indignantly  upon  the  thief, 
and  said: 

"  Man !  how  dare  you  tate  'hings  'out  leave  ?  " 

And  it  was  delicious  to  see  the  air  of  authority  and 
confidence  with  which  the  baby-boy  put  this  question. 

And  why  not  ?  Had  he  not  been  permitted  to  rule 
over  his  mother  and  cousins,  and  even  over  his  godfather, 
the  veteran  General,  who  was  the  greatest  man  he  knew 
in  the  world  ?  and  should  he  not  rule  over  these  poor 
creatures?  And  besides,  I  think  that  Master  Leonard 
Lyon,  while  inheriting  all  the  graces  and  virtues  of  his 
ancient  house,  inherited  some  of  its  faults  as  well,  and 
among  the  latter  that  inordinate  pride  of  caste  which  is 
so  very  objectionable  in  this  republican  age,  and  that  he 
looked  upon  this  order  of  human  creatures  as  rather  lower 
in  the  scale  of  being  than  well-bred  cattle,  So,  captive 
and  helpless  as  he  was,  he  looked  around  upon  them 


356  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

with  queerly  mixed  feelings  of  wonder,  mirth,  pity  and 
disapprobation,  but  without  a  particle  of  fear. 

As  for  the  red-haired  ruffian,  he  was  so  astonished  by 
the  words  and  actions  of  the  baby-boy,  that  he  could  but 
open  his  mouth  and  eyes  and  stare.  He  did  not  attempt 
to  recover  the  necklace  ;  but  of  course  he  knew  that  the 
child  and  his  jewels  were  both  hi  his  power  all  the  same. 

Lenny,  after  staring  at  him  for  a  moment  and  receiving 
no  answer  to  his  unanswerable  question,  turned  to  the 
gipsy-looking  girl  and  asked : 

"  What  you  name,  dirl  ?  " 

"  Meg,"  answered  the  girl,  smiling  kindly  on  the  child. 

"  Met,  you  tate  dis  and  teep  it  for  Lenny.  Me  name 
Lenny,"  he  said,  handing  her  the  necklace. 

Meg  looked  up  in  doubt  and  fear  to  the  face  of  her  red- 
haired  relative,  and  meeting  his  eye,  and  seeing  him  nod 
and  wink  at  her,  she  slipped  the  necklace  into  her  bosom, 
and  answered  the  child,  calling  herself  by  the  name  he 
had  given  her : 

"  Yes,  pretty !  Met  will  keep  it  for  Lenny.  (Yes,  and  I 
will,  too,  if  I  can,")  she  added,  in  a  lower  tone.  But  she 
probably  knew  also  that  the  jewels  must  pass  back  into 
the  custody  of  the  red-haired  ruffian  before  the  night 
should  be  over. 

But  Lenny's  attention  was  instantly  called  away  to 
another  quarter.  In  fact,  he  needed  to  be  constantly  on 
the  alert  to  prevent  himself  from  being  stripped  and 
skinned  by  the  thieves. 

"  You  'top,  man  !  "  he  indignantly  exclaimed  to  Black 
Bill,  who  was  stealing  the  pearl  and  turquoise  armlets 
from  his  sleeve.  "  Div  Lenny  back,  minute  ! "  he  cried, 
making  a  snatch  at  the  jewels. 

Black  Bill  probably  felt  safe  in  relinquishing  his  prizes, 
for  the  time  being ;  for  as  soon  as  he  restored  them  to 
Lenny,  the  child  passed  them  over  to  the  appointed  keeper 
of  the  jewels,  saying  : 

"  Met,  teep  dem  too  for  Lenny." 

And  the  girl,  with  a  smile,  put  them  also  in  her  bosom. 

But  presently  this  chosen  servant  seemed  turning  trai- 
tor to  her  little  lord,  for  while  his  attention  was  for  a  mo- 
ment called  off  elsewhere,  he  felt  hands  at  work  upon  his 
pretty  little  blue  kid  gaiters,  with  their  gold  buttons. 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ADVENTURES.  357 

"  'Top  dat,  Met !  'Top  it,.  Met !  What  you  pull  off  my 
boos  for  ?  Me  not  do  bed.  'Top  it,  Met !  "  he  cried,  this 
time  less  in  anger  than  in  anguish  to  see  such  treachery 
in  a  trusted  servant. 

"  Oh  !  I  want  'em  so  bad !  so  bad  !  Won't  you  give 
'em  to  me  ?  Won't  Lenny  give  'em  to  Met  ?  "  pleaded 
the  girl,  in  a  wheedling  tone. 

"  You  want  my  hoos  ?  "  inquired  Lenny,  pitifully. 

"  Yes,  so  bad !    I  have  got  no  shoes." 

"You  dot  no  hoos?" 

"No." 

"  Well,  den,  me  div  you  mine.  Tate  off !  tate  off !  Me 
dot  more  hoos  home." 

The  girl  took  them  off.  And  this  must  be  said  in  ex- 
cuse for  her,  that  she  was  acting  under  the  orders  and 
under  the  eyes  of  her  tyrannical  and  unscrupulous 
uncles. 

"  Now  put  on  you  feet !  Put  on !  put  on  !  "  insisted 
Lenny,  stooping  over  and  looking  at  Meg's  sturdy  naked 
limbs.  "  But  my  hoos  too  ittle  for  you  feet.  You  feet, 
so  bid,"  he  added,  in  astonishment,  at  the  size  of  Meg's 
"  understanding." 

"  Never  mind,  I  can  change  'em  for  a  bigger  pair,"  an- 
swered the  girl. 

Before  Lenny  could  reply  again,  he  was  accosted  by  the 
beldam,  who  held  him  on  her  lap  and  who  had  got  posses- 
sion of  his  elegant  little  white  satin  hat,  with  its  plume 
of  white  marabout  feathers  fastened  with  a  cluster  of  dia- 
monds. 

"  And  may  I  have  this,  my  pretty,  pretty  bird  ?  "  she 
asked,  holding  it  up  to  view. 

"  You  dot  no  bonnet  ?  "  he  inquired  compassionately. 

"  No,  my  pretty  little  angel,  I've  got  no  bonnet." 

"  Den  you  have  Lenny  hat— Doosa  div  Lenny  more  hat. 
Put  on,  put  on  ! "  he  exclaimed,  impatiently  seizing  his 
beautiful  and  costly  cap,  and  trying  to  decorate  with  it 
the  horrible  head  of  the  old  hag. 

He  was  permitted  to  complete  his  purpose,  to  the 
unbounded  mirth  of  the  group  who  all  burst  into  loud 
laughter  at  the  ludicrous  effect  produced. 

When  this  ebullition  had  somewhat  subsided,  Lenny 
bestowed  his  sash  upon  Meg,  his  tiny  pocket-handker- 


358  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

•chief  on  one  man,  and  his  little  gloves  on  another ;  and 
then  he  said,  with  an  air  of  relief : 

"  Now,  dat  all — Lenny  dot  no  more  div !  Now  Lenny 
want  do  home  see  Doosa." 

He  said  this  with  so  much  confidence,  yet  with  so 
much  uneasiness  and  longing  that  they  all  pitied  him. 
The  old  woman  asked : 

"  Who  is  Doosa,  my  little  angel  ?  " 

"  Doosa  id  Doosa — Lenny  Doosa — Lenny  pretty  Mamma 
Doosa." 

"  His  mother,"  said  one  of  the  men,  in  a  low  voice. 

And  then,  for  a  few  moments,  nobody  knew  what  to 
say. 

Lenny  was  the  first  to  speak : 

"  Tate  me  home  now  see  Doosa.  Met,  I  do  'id  you — 
you  tate  me." 

Meg  was  confounded  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  her 
mother- wit  came  to  her  aid,  and  she  answered  : 

"But  Doosa  is  coming  here  herself  to  take  Lenny 
home." 

M  Doosa  tome  here,  tate  Lenny  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  Lenny  must  be  a  good  boy  till  Dooea  comes." 

"Doosa  say  so?" 

"  Yes,  Doosa  say  so." 

"  Den  Lenny  will — "  he  said,  gaping,  and  adding : 

"  Lenny  so  sleepy  !  me  so  sleepy  !  " 

"  Well,  then,  lay  on  its  old  grannam  breast,  and  go  to 
^leep,  my  little  angel,"  said  the  old  woman,  gathering  him 
up  to  her  bosom. 

"  No,  no,  no,  no !  lay  on  Met  lap.  Met  dit  Lenny  seep," 
he  said,  wriggling  himself  away  from  the  crone,  and  go- 
ing up  to  Meg. 

What  girl  does  not  doat  on  little  children?  What 
girl,  under  these  circumstances,  would  not  have  met  the 
baby's  advances  with  delight  ? 

The  poor  young  daughter  of  thieves  and  beggars  took 
the  child  up  in  her  arms  and  looked  around  for  a  seat. 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  have  got  to  nurse  him,  I  will  give 
YOU  my  chair,"  said  the  old  woman,  rising  and  throwing 
herself  down  upon  the  bed. 

Meg  took  the  seat  and  arranged  the  drowsy  child  com- 
fortably on  her  lap. 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ADVENTURES.  359 

"Woek  me!  wock  me,  Met,"  said  little  Lenny. 

There  were  no  rockers  on  the  rickety  chair,  but  Meg* 
moved  her  body  backwards  and  forwards,  and  so  gave 
the  baby  the  best  rocking  she  could. 

"  Now  sin'  to  me,  Met." 

Meg  looked  perplexed  at  this  request,  for  a  moment, 
but  soon  recovered  herself.  Fortunately,  Mother  Goose's 
melodies  are  the  common  property  of  infant  humanity, 
from  the  royal  palace  to  the  rag-picker's  hut,  and  Meg 
struck  up  the  nursery -classic — 

"By,  Baby-Bunting ! " 

She  had  a  very  sweet  voice,  which  certainly  soothed 
the  child,  for  he  listened  hi  drowsy  delight.  He  well 
understood  that  he  himself  was  the  Baby-Bunting  in 
question.  But  when  she  sang  the  next  line : 

"Popper's  gone  a-hunting." 

He  opened  his  sleepy  eyes  and  said : 
"  No,  no  ;  me  dot  no  popper  ! " 
«  Never  mind ;  some  Baby-Buntings  have — " 

"Mommer's  gone  a-milking." 

"  No,  no ;  Lenny  mammer  don't  go  miltin' !  Dane  do 
miltin',  and  Mawy,  and  Suzy — down  home  in  tountry. 
And  Lenny  do  wid  'em  too — see  milt  tow,"  he  exclaimed, 
quite  waking  up,  as  the  memory  of  the  rural  pleasures  of 
Old  Lyon  Hall  flashed  over  his  mind. 

M  Well,  never  mind  ;  some  mommers  do,  you  know — 

"  Sister's  gone  a  silking." 
"  Lenny  ain't  dot  no  sister — not  one,"  he  said. 

"  Brother's  gone  to  get  a  skin 
To  wrap  my  Baby-Bunting  in — 
A  pretty  little  rabbit  skin, 
To  wrap  my  Baby-Bunting  in." 

"  No,  no,  no ;  Lenny  ain't  dot  no  brudder.  Dit  do  after 
yabbits,"  said  Lenny,  very  drowsily. 

He  was  almost  asleep,  and  the  girl  continued  her  chant-. 


360  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

ing :  but  presently  as  his  eyes  were  about  closing,  he  sud- 
denly started  up : 

"Met?" 

«  What  does  my  pretty  want  ?  " 

"  When  Doosa  tomes,  wate  me  up." 

«  Yes,  that  I  will." 

"  Dood  night,  Met !  " 

"  Good  night,  little  angel !  " 

"  Tiss  me  first,  Met ;  tiss  Lenny  dood-night,  Met !  " 

The  girl  stooped  and  kissed  the  child  almost  passion- 
ately, and  murmured : 

"  Who  could  hurt  him,  the  darling  ?  " 

But  Lenny's  eyelids  were  weighed  down  with  sleep, 
and  he  was  almost  gone  again,  when,  once  more  he  called : 

"  Met,  I  fordot  to  say  my  p'ayers.  Hear  me  say  my 
p'ayers,  Met ! " 

And  heavy  with  sleep  as  he  was,  he  slipped  off  her  lap, 
knelt  down  at  her  knee,  and  folded  his  little  hands,  and 
bowed  his  little  head,  and  opened  his  baby-mouth,  in  "  the 
simplest  form  of  words  that  infant-lips  can  try  :  " 

"  Now  I  !ay  me  down  to  s'eep, 
P'ay  de  Lord  my  soul  to  teep  ; 
If  I  die  before  I  wate, 
P'ay  de  Lord  my  soul  to  tate<" 

This  was  the  little  evening  prayer  that  had  been  taught 
him,  with  much  trouble,  by  his  mother. 

It  was  uttered  now  in  a  place  and  among  people  who 
had  probably  never  heard  a  prayer  before. 

Yet,  perhaps,  no  purer  orisons  from  priest  or  prelate 
arose  to  the  throne  of  the  Most  High  that  night. 

«  Now  me  done.  Now  me  do  s'eep,"  said  Lenny,  drow- 
sily, climbing  up  to  Meg's  lap  and  putting  his  arms  around 
her  neck  and  nestling  his  head  upon  her  bosom. 

"  Bless  the  darling ! "  said  the  girl,  as  she  gathered  him 
closer  and  supported  him  comfortably. 

And  again  he  was  almost  asleep,  when  again  he  started 
up  and  called  out  again : 

"Met!" 

«  What  is  it  now,  my  pretty  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  fordet  to  wate  me  up  when  mamma  Doosa 
tomes." 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ADVENTURES.  361 

«  No,  I  won't,  my  pretty." 

«  Now  I  do  s'e  p,  sure  'nough.     Dood  night,  Met." 

"  Good  night,  little  angel." 

"  More  tiss." 

She  stooped  and  pressed  her  lips  to  his  baby  lips  again. 

He  opened  his  drowsy  eyes  to  look  at  her  and  say  : 

"  Lenny  love  Met."  And  with  the  words  hi  his  mouth 
he  fell  fast  asleep. 

And  Meg  continued  to  rock  him  with  a  gentle  motion 
and  sing  to  him  in  a  soothing  tone. 

"  Meanwhile  the  old  woman  lay  resting  on  her  bed,  and 
the  two  men  sat  drinking  at  the  rickety  table. 

"  You'd  better  take  them  things  to  Old  Israel  and  get 
'em  out'n  the  way  in  case  of  accident ;  and  mind  what  he 
gives  you  for  'em.  Them's  rale  jewels,  if  1  know  any- 
think  about  rale  jewels,"  said  the  old  woman  from  her 
bed. 

«  Which  you  don't.  Not  the  least.  But  them's  rale> 
sure  enough  ;  because  it  ain't  possible  as  a  rich  lady,  roll- 
ing in  gold,  would  go  for  to  put  her  onliest  child  into  imi- 
tation trash,"  said  Black  Bill. 

"  Well  then  you  had  better  go  and  make  sure  on  'enu 
There'll  be  a  hue  and  cry  next." 

"  There  is  a  hue  and  a  cry  now,  I  shouldn't  wonder  ; 
only  it  won't  come  down  our  way." 

"  Well,  anyhow,  why  don't  you  go  and  take  the  things, 
to  the  Jew  ?  " 

"  Because  we  must  wait  here  for  the  gentleman.  I 
saw  him  on  the  Strand  arter  Bill  carried  off  the  chikU 
He  said  he  was  coming  to  settle  to-night,"  said  Roger. 

"  One  of  you  can  stay  here  to  see  him  and  the  other 
can  go  and  sell  the  jewels." 

"  Not  if  we  know  it,"  laughed  both  the  brothers,  speak- 
ing at  once. 

"  We  want  to  stay  here  together  to  see  the  gentleman 
and  get  the  money,"  said  Red  Roger. 

"  So  we  can  have  fair  play  and  diwide  it,  equal,  share 
and  share  alike,"  added  Black  Bill. 

"  And  then  we  wants  to  go  together  to  Israel's  to  sell 
the  jewels  and  get  the  price,"  pursued  Red  Roger. 

"  So  we  can  diwide  the  same  fair  and  equal,"  added. 
Black  Bill. 


362  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

By  this  it  will  seem  that  there  was  no  "  honor  among 
thieves  "  in  this  case.  Neither  would  trust  the  other. 

tt  Here  he  is  now,"  said  Roger  as  a  step  was  heard  upon 
the  stairs. 

A  few  moments  after,  there  was  a  rap  at  the  door. 

Black  Bill  opened  it  and  admitted  Everage. 

«  You  have  got  the  child  ?  "  he  eagerly  demanded. 

But  before  any  one  could  reply,  his  eyes  fell  upon  little 
Lenny  sleeping  on  the  girl  Meg's  lap. 

"  Yes,  as  your  honor  sees,  we've  got  him  fast  enough," 
answered  Roger. 

Everage  approached  the  sleeping  child  and  gazed  in 
his  tranquil  face. 

"  Did  he  cry  much  ?  "  he  inquired,  in  a  subdued  tone. 

«  Cry  ?  "  laughed  Black  Bill.  " '  Cry  ?  '—Lord  love 
you,  sir,  no  !  He  thought  it  was  a  frolic,  and  he  whooped 
'  stop  thief '  with  the  lustiest  on  'em  till  the  clooryfum 
quieted  of  him." 

"  But  when  he  was  brought  here  ?  " 

*•  Oh,  he  was  asleep  then." 

"  Good  Heaven !  "  exclaimed  Everage,  fairly  jumping 
off  his  feet  with  fright,  "  has  he  been  hi  that  state  ever 
since?" 

"  Lord  bless  your  honor,  no,  sir  !  He  woke  up  bright 
as  a  skylark  the  minute  we  flung  water  in  his  face." 

"  And  then  was  he  frightened  ?  Did  he  cry  for  his 
mother?" 

"  Lord  love  you,  no,  sir  !  Never  see  such  a  plucky  little 
<x)ve.  He  scolded  us  men,  and  he  petted  Meg,  and  he 
put  his  precious  little  cap  on  the  old  woman's  head. 
Such  a  figure  it  made  of  her — ha !  ha !  ha ! — ho !  ho  !  ho !  n 
laughed  both  brothers. 

"  Then  he  was  not  terrified  or  distressed  ?  " 

"  He  terrified  or  distressed !  You  ought  to  have  heard 
how  he  ordered  us  all  around  until  he  got  sleepy,  and 
then  he  insisted  on  Meg's  rocking  him  to  sleep.  And 
she  did  it." 

"  Has  he  had  his  supper  ?  " 

"  No,  your  honor.  He  didn't  ask  for  no  supper.  Why, 
sir,  his  hands  were  full  of  buns  when  I  snatched  him  up 
and  run  off  with  him,"  said  Black  Bill. 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ADVENTURES.  363 

"  But  if  he  wakes  up  hungry,  what  have  you  got  to 
give  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  unless  the  poor  woman  has  a  bit  of  bread  and 
a  lump  of  cheese,  I  don't  know  as  there's  anything  else." 

"  I  thought  so.  I  must  go  out  and  buy  him  some  milk. 
Where  can  I  find  any  hereabouts  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  there's  a  shop  at  the  corner  of  the  next 
street  where  they  sells  it.  But,  master,  how  about  the 
pay  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  shall  have  it,"  said  Everage,  taking  out  hie 
old  portmonnaie  and  drawing  from  its  interior  three  ten 
pound  notes,  the  price  of  his  valuable  jeweled  gold  watch 
and  chain,  his  own  seal  ring,  a  costly  microscope  that  had 
once  been  his  delight,  and  other  sacred  treasures  spared 
from  sacrifice  till  now. 

"  I  promised  you  ten  pounds  each,  I  think.  Here  they 
are."  And  he  handed  a  note  to  each  of  his  confederates. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  "I  must  go  and  get  some  milk 
for  the  child." 

"  I  will  go,  your  worship,"  said  Roger. 

"  Very  well.  I  shall  thank  you.  Here  is  a  sixpence," 
said  Everage. 

"  If  your  honor  pleases,  I  must  buy  a  mug  or  summit 
to  fetch  it  in." 

"  Here  is  another  sixpence.  And  now  make  haste.  I 
want  to  see  the  child  comfortable  before  I  leave  him  to- 
night." 

"  All  right,  your  honor ;  I'll  be  back  in  no  time,"  said 
Roger,  starting  out  of  the  room. 

"  But — where  are  you  going  to  lay  him  ?  "  inquired  Ev- 
erage, glancing  at  the  old  woman's  foul  bed  with  a  visible 
shudder. 

"  Oh,  your  honor,  it's  all  right.  He  shall  sleep  with 
me,"  said  the  crone. 

"  No,  I  would  rather  he  should  not.  Can't  he  sleep 
with  the  girl  ?  " 

"  But  she  shares  my  bed,  your  honor." 

"  Have  you  no  other  bedding  ?  "  he  inquired,  glancing 
around  the  room. 

"  Lord  love  you,  sir,  where  would  the  likes  of  us  get  it  ? 
No,  your  honor,  you  see  all  we  have." 

•'  Where  do  the  men  sleep  ?  " 


364:  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  La,  sir,  anywheres  or  nowheres  !  most  in  general  no- 
^heres !  If  so  be  they  happen  to  be  at  home  a  night 
they  just  fling  themselves  down  onto  the  floor." 

**  Well,"  sighed  the  poor  gentleman,  "  I  suppose  there 
in  no  help  for  it  to-night,  and  he  must  sleep  as  he  can, 
but  to-morrow  I  must  get  some  clean  bedding  for  his 
use.  I  wish  you  to  take  good  care  of  the  little  fellow 
for  the  few  hours  or  days  he  will  be  with  you ;  but  I 
must  get  him  out  of  the  country  as  soon  as  possible." 

With  Everage  "  as  soon  as  .possible  "  meant  as  soon  as 
by  any  means  he  could  raise  the  money  to  do  so. 

"  If  you  please,  sir "  began  Meg,  in  a  timid  voice. 

"  Well,  my  girl,  what  is  it  ?  "  inquired  Everage,  turning 
and  looking  at  her,  and  thinking  what  a  fine  frank  face 
was  hers,  notwithstanding  that  she  was  the  child  and  com- 
panion of  thieves  and  outcasts. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  I  would  not  lay  him  on  that  bed. 
He  ain't  hardened  to  it,  and  he  could  not  sleep,  sir.  It  is 
full  of  bugs,"  said  Meg. 

"  But  what's  to  be  done  ?  You  can't  hold  him  in  your 
-arms  all  nfght." 

"  'Deed  I'd  sooner  do  it,  sir,  than  see  him  eat  up  alive. 
But  please,  sir,  if  so  be  I  might  make  so  bold " 

"  Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure.     Go  on." 

— "  The  shops  is  all  open  yet,  sir,  and  if  so  be  as  you 
•could  send  out  and  buy  him  a  little  clean  blanket — a 
coarse  one  would  do— I  could  make  him  a  pallet  hi  the 
corner  of  the  room  and  cover  him  over  with  his  own  little 
mantle,"  said  Meg. 

"  Well  thought  of,  my  girl.  How  much  will  it  take  to 
buy?"  required  Everage,  for  his  funds  were  very, 
very  low. 

"  A  crown  would  do  it — maybe  less." 

"  Can  you  do  this  errand  for  me,  my  man  ?  "  inquired 
Everage,  turning  to  Black  Bill. 

"  If  your  honor  wills ;  but  it  will  take  seven  shillings  at 
the  least,"  said  the  ruffian. 

Everage  produced  the  required  amount  and  handed  it 
over  to  the  man,  who  arose  and  lounged  out  of  the  room. 

«  And  now  I  must  not  forget  this,"  said  Everage,  picking 
Up  a  bundle  he  had  brought  in  with  him,  unrolling  it,  and 
displaying  a  full  suit  of  baby's  clothing,  including  the 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ADVENTURES.  365 

night  gown,  all  of  the  cheapest  and  plainest  material,  faded, 
and  patched,  but  perfectly  clean :  for  it  belonged  to  his  own 
little  two-year-old  Clara,  and  had  been  privately  taken 
from  his  wife's  bureau  drawer.  u  He  must  not  remain  in, 
his  fine  clothes  lest  he  should  be  accidentally  seen.  Put 
this  night-gown  on  him  to-night,  and  to-morrow  dress  him 
in  this  suit ;  and  be  sure  to  hide  away  or  destroy  the  others. 
Do  you  understand  ?  "  he  inquired,  as  he  passed  the  bundle 
over  to  Meg. 

"  Yes,  please,  sir." 

The  door  opened  and  the  two  brothers  came  in  together 
— Black  Bill,  with  a  small,  coarse,  cradle-blanket  on  his 
arm ;  and  Red  Roger,  with  a  mug  in  his  hand. 

Everage  himself  took  the  purchases  from  them,  and  gave 
them  into  the  keeping  of  the  girl,  whom  he  trusted  more 
than  all  the  rest  of  the  gang. 

Then  he  waited  until  he  saw  Meg  undress  the  child  and 
put  it  in  his  clean,  patched  nightgown,  while  little  Lenny- 
slept  heavily  the  sleep  of  fatigue  through  the  whole  pro- 
cess. 

"  Now,  if  you  will  hold  him  on  your  knees  half  a  minute, 
I'll  spread  his  pallet,"  said  the  girl,  laying  the  child  on  the 
lap  of  Everage. 

As  soon  as  his  pallet  was  prepared,  she  took  him,  still 
sleeping,  and  laid  him  on  it,  covering  him  over  with  his 
own  little  mantle. 

"  And  you'd  better  keep  the  milk  handy  so  as  to  give  it 
to  him  to  drink  if  he  should  wake  hungry  or  thirsty," 
said  Everage. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  will.  I  will  just  fling  myself  down  on  the- 
floor  by  his  pallet,  and  take  care  of  him,  sir,"  replied  Meg. 

"  And  you  shall  not  go  unrewarded  for  your  care  of  him," 
said  the  poor  gentleman  loftily. 

And  then,  having  given  his  confederates  an  extra  cau- 
tion in  regard  to  the  child,  and  promised,  or  rather  threat- 
ened, to  look  in  the  next  night,  Everage  left  the  house  and 
bent  his  steps  homeward. 

Surely  little  Lenny's  guardian  angel  inspired  poor  Meg 
that  night.  She  laid  herself  down  on  the  bare  boards 
beside  his  pallet,  and  resting  her  head  upon  her  bent  arm, 
with  her  face  towards  the  child,  watched  him  until  she- 
became  too  drowsy  to  keep  her  eyes  open ;  and  even  then 


366  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

she  slept  like  a  watch  dog,  on  the  alert,  and  at  the  slight- 
est motion  of  her  charge  she  would  wake  up  to  see  if  he 
wanted  water,  or  milk,  or  to  spread  the  mantle  over  him. 

But  Lenny  slept  soundly  until  morning. 

At  his  usual  time  of  waking,  a  little  after  sunrise,  he 
opened  his  eyes.  At  first  he  stared  around  himself  in 
utter  bewilderment.  Then  he  saw  Meg  bending  over  him, 
and  he  recognized  her  face,  and  he  remembered  the  incid- 
ents of  the  preceding  night. 

"  Why  didn't  you,  Met  ?  "  he  inquired,  looking  reproach- 
fully in  her  face. 

"  Why  didn't  I  do  what,  my  pretty  ?  "  smiled  the  girL 

"  Wate  me  up  when  Doosa  tomed." 

"  But  Doosa  didn't  come,  my  pretty  bird." 

«  Doosa  didn't  tome  ?  " 

«  No,  pretty." 

"  But  Doosa  say  she  tome." 

"  So  she  did  ;  but  then  she  said  she  couldn't,  and  now 
she  says  she  will  come  to-day." 

"  Tome  to-day  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

«  Tome  soon  ?  " 

«Yes." 

Lenny  smiled,  and  then  all  out  of  season,  he  remembered 
a  certain  matutinal  formula  that  he  had  forgotten  under 
his  unusual  circumstances,  and  he  suddenly  said  : 

«  Dood  mornin,'  Met ! " 

Meg,  taken  all  aback  by  this  unexpected  salutation, 
did  not  respond. 

"  Dood  mornin',  Met.  Why  don't  you  say  dood  morn  in* 
tome?" 

"  Good  morning,  pretty  bird." 

"  Me  not  pretty  bird — me  'ittle  boy." 

"  Good  morning,  little  boy." 

«  Tiss  dood  mornin',  Met." 

The  girl  caught  him  up  in  her  arms  and  kissed  him 
enthusiastically. 

To  her  dark  and  gloomy  life  he  had  come  like  some 
beautiful,  brilliant  bird  of  Heaven,  and  she  prized  him 
and  delighted  in  him.  It  was  something  of  the  same  sort 
of  natural  passion  that  a  child  feels  for  its  first  wonderful 
Wax  doll,  or  its  first  beautiful  lire  pet,  only  it  was  much 


LITTLE  LENNY'S  ADVENTURES.  367 

more  intense,  inasmuch  as  this  was  a  living,  loving  talk- 
ing doll — a  beautiful,  intelligent  human  pet. 

And  so  she  kissed  him,  and  hugged  him,  and  shook 
him,  and  danced  him,  and  prattled  to  him,  and  called  him 
all  the  sweet  names  that,  on  such  cases,  spring  spontane- 
ously to  the  lips  of  girls  and  women. 

And  Lenny,  in  his  gracious,  genial  nature,  gave  kiss  for 
kiss,  and  caress  for  caress. 

I  think  if  poor  Brasilia,  waking  hi  her  agony  of 
bereavement,  that  same  morning,  could  have  seen,  as  in  a 
magic  glass,  these  two  friends — the  girl  and  the  baby, — 
she  would  have  been  contented, — no,  not  that,  but  she 
would  have  felt  comforted. 

"  Lenny  love  Met,"  said  the  child,  patting  her  cheeks. 

"  And  *  Met '  loves  Lenny  dearly,  dearly,  dearly  !  and 
nobody  shall  hurt  him— they  shall  kill  'Met '  first ! " 

Now,  as  "  hurt "  and  "  kill  "  were  words  that  had  never 
been  introduced  into  this  cherished  baby's  vocabulary,  he 
did  not  understand  and  did  not  know  how  to  reply  ;  but 
he  felt  that  love  was  meant  throughout,  and  he  knew 
how  to  answer  that.  So  he  patted  Meg's  cheeks  and 
kissed  her  lips. 

And  now  as  the  long-lingering  light  of  day  stole  into 
that  wretched  attic-chamber,  it  brought  out  strange 
pictures.  The  yellow  rays  of  the  sun,  striking  obliquely 
through  the  window  in  the  roof,  fell  upon  the  corner 
occupied  by  Meg  and  Lenny,  and  lighted  up  a  pictur- 
esque group,— the  beautiful,  golden-haired,  blue-eyed  baby- 
boy,  fair  as  one  of  Rafael's  pictured  angels,  with  his  rosy 
arms  clasped  around  the  neck  of  the  wild,  dark,  gipsyish 
girl,  who  held  him  on  her  lap  ;  and  their  surroundings, — - 
the  poor  pallet,  the  little  stone-jug  of  milk,  the  bare 
boards,  and  the  broken  walls.  This  was  the  only  sunny 
scene  in  the  room. 

In  the  shadows  were  other  scenes,  best  left  in  darkness^ 
— the  beldam  in  her  foul  bed,  and  the  two  men  sprawling 
on  the  naked  floor.  All  these  were  dead  to  all  surround- 
ing life,  for  they  were  heavily  sleeping  off  the  effects  of 
the  last  night's  gin-drinking. 

To  return  to  the  "  sunny"  spot  occupied  by  the  girl  and 
the  baby.  She  was  still  caressing  him. 

«  Would  Lenny  like  his  breakfast  now  ?  "  she  asked. 


368  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  Yes,  Lenny  like  breakfas'.     But  go  in  baf-tub  first." 

"  Go — where  ?  "  inquired  the  girl,  quite  bewildered. 

"In  baf-tub!  baf-tub!   baf-tub!   wash!" 

"  Oh,  bath-tub  !  My  bonny  bird,  we  have  got  no  bath- 
tub here,  but  '  Met'  will  wash  you  clean — will  she  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Met  wash." 

"  Will  Lenny  be  afraid  to  stay  here  while  *  Met'  goes  to 
fetch  water  ?  " 

«'Faid?  what'faid?" 

"  You  don't  know  ?     Well,  I  hope  you  never  will." 

"What  'faid?  what  'faid?  what  'faid?"  peremptorily 
demanded  this  despotic  little  inquisitor. 

"  'Faid  is — bad,  naughty,"  said  Meg,  after  some  little 
perplexity. 

"  No,  Lenny  not  'faid." 

"  And  will  Lenny  let « Met '  go  get  some  water  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

u  And  sit  here  and  don't  move  until  I  come  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

Away  ran  the  girl,  and  as  quickly  as  she  could  borrow 
a  bucket  and  fetch  the  water  she  returned  to  the  room. 

She  washed  the  child  very  thoroughly  and  then  dressed 
him  in  the  clean  suit  that  had  been  provided  by  Everage. 

"  But  dese  ain't  Lenny  tose,"  observed  the  child. 

"  No,  Lenny  has  got  no  clean  clothes  here,  so  Lenny 
must  wear  these,"  said  the  girl. 

And  the  child  trusted  her  and  was  content  with  the 
answer. 

"  And  now  Lenny  will  have  his  breakfast  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes  ;  and  Met  have  hers  too,"  answered  the  child. 

The  girl  then  went  to  the  sleeping  men  and  felt  in  their 
pockets.  She  knew  very  well  that  both  had  cheated  their 
employer  hi  the  matter  of  the  price  of  the  milk  and  the 
blanket  that  they  had  been  sent  to  buy  on  the  previous 
night,  and  so  she  judged  they  must  have  the  odd  change 
they  had  swindled  Everage  out  of  still  in  their  possession. 

She  was  right.  She  found  a  sixpence  in  Roger's  pocket 
3,nd  two  shillings  in  Bill's.  She  replaced  all  the  money 
'except  one  of  the  shillings,  which  she  confiscated  to  the 
"use  of  the  right  owner,  as  she  called  little  Lenny. 

Having  possessed  herself  of  this  fund,  she  turned  to 
the  child  and  took  him  by  the  hand,  saying : 


LENNY'S  EXPERIENCES.  369 

«  Will  Lenny  take  a  walk  with  '  Met '?  " 

"  Lenny  want  bekf as  first." 

"  Well,  we  are  going  out  to  buy  milk  for  breakfast — 
nice  new  milk.  Will  Lenny  go  ?  " 

"  Pose  Doosa  tome '? "  objected  the  child. 

"  But  Doosa  won't  come  before  we  get  back." 

"  Well,  den  Lenny  go  wid  Met." 

And  they  walked  out  together  down  to  the  corner  of 
the  alley  to  the  cellar  where  the  milk  was  sold. 

And  Meg  bought  new  milk  and  fresh  rolls,  and  a  little 
cheap  white  mug  and  plate,  all  for  nine  pence. 

And  then  she  took  Lenny  back  to  the  attic  and  gave 
him  his  breakfast  clean. 

And  through  all  this  the  beasts  in  the  attic  slept  on. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

LENNY'S  EXPERIENCES. 

Oh  !  strange  new  world 
That  has  such  people  in  it !— SHAKESPEARE. 

THE  beldam  was  the  first  to  awake.  She  looked  at  the 
child  and  asked  if  he  had  slept  well,  and  if  he  had  had 
anything  to  eat,  and  having  received  satisfactory  answers, 
she  set  about  preparing  her  own  breakfast. 

It  was  her  daily  custom,  in  returning  home  at  evening 
to  pick  up  and  put  into  her  wallet  almost  any  sort  of  trash 
she  might  find  about  the  streets;  not  only  rags,  but 
paper,  straw,  dry  leaves,  chips,  sticks,  and  so  forth. 

Of  these  she  now  made  just  fire  enough  in  the  rusty 
grate  to  boil  her  kettle  and  make  her  tea. 

And  then  she  took  from  a  small  bundle  a  store  of  crusts 
and  bones  and  broken  victuals,  all  of  which  she  arranged 
on  the  end  of  the  rickety  table ;  and  so  she  made  her 
morning  meal. 

"  You  may  have  what's  left.  And  mind  you  take  care 
of  that  child  while  I'm  gone." 

And  with  these  orders,  given  of  course  to  Meg,  she  put 
on  her  smashed  bonnet  and  took  her  bundle  of  matches 
and  went  off  to  her  usual  haunts.  And  she  did  this,  not- 
withstanding that  she  had  received  ten  pounds  the 
24 


370  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE, 

night  before.     Such  with  her  was  the  force  of  habit,  or  of 
rapacity. 

After  she  had  gone  Meg  made  a  meal  of  the  fragments 
she  had  left,  and  washed  it  down  with  milk,  now  turned 
sour,  that  had  been  provided  for  Lenny  on  the  preceding 
evening. 

Then  she  cleared  the  table,  and  straightened  the  bed, 
and  tidied  the  miserable  room  as  well  as  she  could. 

All  this  time  little  Lenny  was  watching  her  gravely, 
and  occasionally  turning  his  eyes  with  solemn  curiosity 
upon  the  sleeping  men  on  the  floor. 

When  Meg  had  got  through  her  housework,  even  to 
the  rolling  up  of  little  Lenny's  pallet,  she  came  back  to 
the  child  and  sought  to  amuse  him  with  the  ancient  his- 
tories entitled  «  Red  Riding  Hood,"  "  Goody  Two  Shoes," 
"  Cinderella,"  «  Jack  the  Giant  Killer,"  and  so  forth. 

And  although  of  course  Lenny  had  heard  these  vener- 
able chronicles  a  hundred  times  before — as  what  child 
has  not  ? — he  was  ready  to  listen  to  them  a  hundred  timee 
more — as  what  child  is  not?" 

But  at  the  end  of  every  story  he  would  ask : 
.  «  Met,  why  not  Doosa  tome  ?  " 

«  Doosa  will  be  sure  to  come,  my  pretty.  Now  let  me 
tell  you  another  story." 

— "  Tome  soon  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  will  come  soon.  Now  let  me  tell  you  about 
Hop-O'-My-Thumb." 

Lenny  sighed. 

Did  you  ever  hear  a  baby  sigh  ?  It  is  the  most  pathetic 
sound  in  nature.  Fortunately  they  don't  often  sigh; 
they  generally  prefer  to  scream. 

Another  story  was  told  ;  and  then  a  song  was  sung  ; 
and  so  with  telling  stories  and  singing  songs,  Meg  tried 
to  comfort  and  amuse  the  child. 

But  at  last  he  said  again : 

"  Oh,  Met !  why  not  Doosa  tome  ?  I  want  see  Doosa, 
so  bad."  And  his  little  lips  began  to  tremble  and  his 
bosom  to  heave.  But  he  had  been  taught  that  it  was 
naughty  to  cry  so  he  struggled  valiantly  to  keep  from 
doing  so.  But  how  could  he  bear  hope  deferred  any  bet- 
ter  than  his  biggers  ? 

His  courage  at  last  gave  way  and  he  burst  out  sobbing : 


LENNY'S  EXPERIENCES.  371 

"I  want  to  see  Doosa !  I  want  to  see  Doosa !  I  want 
to  see  Doosa  so  bad  !  " 

Meg  took  him  up  in  her  arms  and  began  to  walk  him 
up  and  down  the  room  and  sing  to  him ;  but  his  heart- 
breaking sobs  arose  above  her  song ;  and  at  last  in  de- 
spair she  herself  burst  into  tears  and  dropped  down  into 
her  chair  and  hugged  him  to  her  heart,  sobbing : 

"  Oh,  my  pretty,  pretty  boy,  what  can  Meg  do  to  com- 
fort you?  It  was  such  a  sin  to  take  you  from  your 
mother ! " 

What  a  germ  of  a  perfect  gentleman  little  Lenny  was ! 

As  soon  as  he  saw  that  his  crying  grieved  his  friend, 
he  stopped  short  with  a  gasp  or  two,  and  put  his  arms 
around  her  neck,  and  laid  his  face  to  hers,  and  began  to 
kiss  and  coax  her. 

"  Don't  ky,  Met ;  Lenny  so  sorry  mate  Met  ky  !  Don't 
ky,  Met !  Lenny  be  dood  boy — 'deed  Lenny  will.  Let 
Lenny  wipe  eye." 

And  he  took  up  the  hem  of  his  little  frock,  and  tried  to 
stretch  it  up  to  her  eyes  to  dry  her  tears. 

And  she  clasped  him  to  her  heart  in  almost  hysterical 
passion,  and  kissed  him,  and  shook  him,  and  danced  him 
until  he  laughed.  And  then  a  sort  of  tacit,  but  well  un- 
derstood, compromise  took  place  between  them — that  one 
would  not  cry  if  the  other  did  not,  that  is  if  either  could 
help  it. 

It  was  long  past  noon  when  the  men  woke  from  their 
drunken  sleep. 

First  Red  Roger  tumbled  up  from  the  floor,  rubbed  his 
eyes,  stared  about  him,  yawned,  and  sat  down  on  the  side 
of  the  bed  to  steady  himself. 

Then  he  got  up,  and  walked  across  the  room  to  where 
Meg  sat  with  the  child.  He  stared  at  him  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, while  little  Lenny  met  the  stare  with  unquailing 
eyes,  and  Meg  trembled  lest  the  ruffian  should  miss  the 
shilling  from  his  pocket ;  and  then,  saying  : 

"  Keep  that  little  fellow  close,  mind  you ! "  he  took 
himself  off,  greatly  to  Meg's  relief. 

Then  Black  Bill  reared  his  lofty  height  from  the  boards, 
tottered  on  his  feet,  reeled  towards  the  table,  sat  down 
upon  it,  for  a  few  moments,  to  yawn  and  stretch  his  limbs, 
and  then  he  went  away. 


372  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

These  worthy  gentlemen  seldom  breakfasted  at  home. 

All  that  day,  Meg  had  a  hard  time  with  little  Lenny. 
The  poor  girl  told  all  the  stories  and  sung  all  the  songs 
she  knew,  and  did  her  best  to  comfort  and  amuse  him. 
And  the  baby-boy  tried  his  best  to  be  a  little  gentleman, 
and  to  keep  his  promise  not  to  cry  ;  yet  every  little  while, 
he  would  burst  into  heart-breaking  sobs  and  tears,  and 
cries,  the  burden  of  which  was  : 

"  I  want  to  see  Doosa !  I  want  to  see  Doosa  so  much  !  w 

At  length,  late  in  the  afternoon,  he  succumbed  to  the 
influence  of  excitement,  and  fell  asleep.  And  then  Meg 
made  his  pallet  with  one  hand,  while  she  held  him  with 
the  other,  and  laid  him  down. 

Leaving  him  asleep,  she  went  out  and  spent  her  last 
three- pence  left  of  the  shilling,  and  bought  him  a  mug  of 
milk  and  a  penny-roll  for  his  supper.  These  she  brought 
home,  and  put  away.  And  then  she  sat  down  to  watch 
by  the  sleeping  boy. 

That  evening  Everage  came  hi  before  the  return  of  the 
others 

"  I  am  glad  I  have  found  you  alone,  my  girl,"  he  said. 
"  I  have  brought  a  little  money  to  buy  some  clean  bed- 
ding for  the  boy,  and  I  think  I  would  rather  trust  you  to 
spend  it  than  another.  Can  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir." 

**  It  doesn't  take  much  to  buy  cheap  bedding  for  a  baby 
and  the  cheaper  you  can  get  this  the  better,  so  it  is  clean. 
Here  are  ten  shillings  ;  will  that  do  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  and  if  there's  any  over  I  will  keep  it  to  buy- 
milk  for  him." 

"  Quite  right.  And  now  let  me  look  at  him,"  said  Ever- 
age, going  up  and  gazing  on  the  sleeping  child. 

There  was  a  tear  resting  on  little  Lenny's  rosy  cheeks, 
which  Everage  in  his  awakening  remorse  could  not  endure 
to  see  :  so  he  quickly  turned  away  his  head,  and  he  asked 
Meg: 

"  Has  the  child  cried  much  to-day  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  sir  ;  he  has  cried  a  great  deal  indeed  for  his 
mother." 

"  Poor  child  !  But  he  will  soon  forget  her,  and — he 
shall  be  taken  care  of.  We  will  get  him  to  the  Highlands 


LENNY'S  EXPERIENCES.  373 

after  a  while,  and  then  he  will  grow  into  a  sturdy  moun- 
taineer," said  Everage  to  himself. 

And  soon  after  this  he  got  up  and  went  away 

Later,  the  two  men  and  the  woman  came  in  and  drank 
themselves  drunk,  and  then  flung  themselves  down  to  sleep 
themselves  sober.  Little  Lenny  slept  on  hi  his  pallet 
watched  by  Meg. 

So  passed  the  first  day  of  the  child's  captivity. 

On  the  second  and  third  days  the  old  crone  abandoned 
her  post  at  St.  Mary's  le  Strand,  and,  hoping  to  make 
more  by  the  beautiful  boy,  dressed  him  in  rags,  and  tell- 
ing him  it  was  all  for  fun,  and  promising  to  take  him  to 
Drusilla,  went  out  to  beg  with  him. 

But  she  carefully  avoided  the  haunts  where  he  or  she 
had  been  seen,  and  took  to  other  quarters  of  the  city.  On 
one  of  these  begging  excursions  at  the  Railway  Station, 
Lenny  had  recognized  Dick  and  called  to  him,  as  has  been 
related.  But  the  beldam  hastily  covered  the  boy's  head 
with  a  ragged  shawl,  plunged  into  the  crowd  and  disap- 
peared, leaving  Dick  bewildered. 

On  that  night,  when  she  took  the  child  home  to  the 
miserable  garret,  she  found  Everage  waiting  there. 

Everage  was  in  a  great  panic.  He  told  her  that  posters 
were  out  all  over  London  advertising  the  loss  of  the  child, 
describing  his  person  and  dress,  and  offering  a  large  re- 
ward for  his  recovery.  He  assured  her  that,  if  the  child 
were  found  in  their  possession,  the  whole  lot  of  them 
would  be  sent  to  prison  and  to  penal  servitude,  and  en- 
joined them  to  keep  him  very  closely  in  the  attic  until  a 
favorable  opportunity  should  occur  of  taking  him  out  of 
the  country. 

He  promised  them  further  and  greater  rewards  if  they 
would  faithfully  follow  his  instructions  ;  and  having  re- 
ceived their  pledge  to  obey  him,  he  left  the  house. 

From  this  day  Lenny  was  confined  to  the  miserable 
attic  and  taken  care  of  by  Meg.  She  watched  him  by 
night,  and  tended  him  by  day ;  she  washed,  dressed  and 
fed  him ;  she  tried  to  amuse  and  console  him  ;  she  sung 
all  the  songs  she  knew  and  told  all  the  tales ;  and  she 
wept  when  he  cried,  and  she  smiled  when  he  laughed ; 
and,  though  her  nature  was  truthful,  she  told  lots  of  lies 
to  little  Lenny  to  account  for  the  non-appearance  of 


374  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Doosa,  promising  every  morning  that  Doosa  would  cer- 
tainly come  that  day. 

Little  Lenny  at  first  believed  this ;  but  daily  disappoint^ 
ment  at  length  disturbed  his  faith.  And  day  by  day  he 
pined  and  pined,  wailing  in  a  tone  of  despair  that  nearly 
broke  Meg's  heart : 

"No,  no,  no,  Doosa  not  tome.  Doo&a  done  away! 
Doosa  done  away  f  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE    PEACE-OFFERING. 

I  give  thee  all 
I  can,  no  more." 

ALEXANDER  LYON  arrived  in  London  on  the  morning 
train,  and  in  a  pouring  rain.  He  was  pale  and  faint  from 
his  long  illness  and  his  fatiguing  journey,  but  he  was 
sustained  by  intense  mental  excitement. 

His  first  thought,  on  leaving  the  train,  was  this : 

How  should  he  find  his  lost  child  in  this  boundless 
Babylon  ? 

For  the  advertisement  in  the  Times,  of  that  morning, 
had  already  informed  him  that  the  baby-boy  was  still 
missing. 

Sending  on  his  valet  with  his  luggage  to  Mivart's,  he 
himself  got  into  a  cab  and  drove  to  the  Morley  House. 
Arrived  there,  he  went  into  the  reading-room  to  make 
inquiries,  for  the  child  might  have  been  found,  even  after 
that  last  advertisement  had  been  sent  to  the  paper. 

"  Has  the  lost  boy  been  found  up  to  this  morning  ?  "  he 
inquired  of  the  bookkeeper  or  clerk  of  the  house. 

"No,  sir, — nor  ever  will  be,  I  fear;  but  here  is  Mr. 
Hammond — perhaps  he  can  tell  you  more,"  answered  that 
official. 

Alexander  turned,  and  found  himself  face  to  face  with 
Dick. 

They  had  parted  in  anger  the  last  time  they  had  spoken 
together ;  but  now,  for  different  reasons,  both  forgot  that 
anger, — Alexander,  in  his  recovered  sanity  and  in  his 
gratitude  for  Dick's  services;  and  Dick  himself  in  the 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  375 

frankness  of  his  heart  and  the  compassion  he  felt  for  the 

sick  and  suffering  man.     Their  hands  met,  and 

Dick !  " 
Alick ! " 

Were  the  first  wo^'ds  they  spoke. 
Has  the  child  been  heard  of  ?  " 
No,"  sighed  Hammond. 

Come  out,  and  walk  with  me ;  I  wish  to  ask  you 
about  it." 

"  But  it  is  pouring  rain,  and  you  have  been  ill.  You 
are  so  still.  Let  us  go  into  some  unoccupied  private 
parlor  and  have  coffee  ordered  there.  You  will  need  it." 

"  Just  as  you  please,  Dick." 

Hammond  beckoned  a  waiter  to  show  them  to  a  private 
room :  and,  when  they  had  reached  it,  he  ordered  break- 
fast for  two  to  be  brought  there. 

"  Now  tell  me  of  her.  How  is  she  ?  How  does  she  bear 
this  heavy  sorrow  ?  "  inquired  Alexander,  as  soon  as  the 
waiter  had  left  the  room. 

"  Badly  enough.  She  scarcely  ever  eats  or  sleeps.  She 
is  wasted  to  a  shadow.  She  is  dying — she  will  die,  unless 
the  child  is  restored,"  answered  Dick. 

u  The  child  shall  be  restored,  if  he  is  above  ground  ! " 
said  Alick,  bringing  his  fist  down  heavily  upon  the  table. 

Dick  shook  his  head,  and  sighed. 

"  I  tell  you  he  shall.  I  arose  from  my  death-bed  to 
seek  for  him,  and  find  him,  and  bring  him  to  his  mother 
— and  I  will  do  it ! " 

"  Will  you  go  to  her  and  tell  her  that  ? "  said  Dick, 
solemnly. 

"  No,  I  will  not.  There  is  too  much — too  much  to  be 
forgiven  me.  I  will  not  go  near  until  I  can  place  her 
child  in  her  arms.  And,  Hammond,  mind,  this  is  a  confi- 
dential interview — do  not  speak  to  her  of  it,  or  of  me." 

"  Certainly  not,  if  such  is  your  wish." 

"  Does  she  pray  now  as  she  used  to  pray  in  all  her 
troubles  ?  " 

«  She  does  little  else  than  pray ;  she  does  nothing  else 
but  pray  and  search  for  her  child." 

«  She  search  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  lives  in  a  cab ;  has  lived  so  ever  since  tha 
child  was  lost." 


376  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  And  does  she  believe  that  she  will  find  him  ?  " 

w  Yes.  She  believes  that  he  is  alive,  and  therefore  to  be 
found.  It  is  her  belief  in  that  theory  which  keeps  her 
alive  through  all  the  agony  of  suspense.  If  she  thought 
he  was  dead  she  would  die.  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  Keep  up  that  faith  hi  her  heart^  Dick.  Lead  her  to 
believe  also  in  the  restitution  of  her  child  as  an  event  that 
may  occur  any  day,  any  hour,  as  you  know  it  may." 

Dick  sighed  heavily. 

"  But  it  may !  And  it  shall !  I,  too,  sinner  that  I  am, 
have  learned  to  pray.  I  pray  daily,  hourly,  that  I  may 
be  permitted  to  find  the  child  and  bring  it  as  a  peace 
offering  to  my  dear,  injured  wife.  And  I  shall  do  it.  I 
feel  sure  that  I  shall." 

"  Heaven  grant  that  you  may,"  sighed  Dick ;  « but 
recollect  that  already  everything  has  been  done  that  expe- 
rience, interest,  energy,  money,  skill,  can  do." 

"  But  not  all  that  despair  can  do  !  Oh,  Dick  !  I  have  so 
set  my  heart  on  finding  this  child  and  bringing  him  to 
his  mother  that  I  shall  surely  do  it." 

"  The  Lord  send  it." 

"  And  therefore,  Dick,  I  want  you  to  prepare  her  to 
expect  the  child ;  or,  rather,  to  believe  it  probable  that  he 
will  soon  be  found ;  so  that  when  I  do  bring  him  to  her 
she  may  not  die  from  a  shock  of  joy." 

"  I  will  do  as  you  request,  Alick  ;  but  I  shall  have  to 
act  with  great  discretion  hi  the  matter." 

"  Certainly  you  will,  and  you  can.  Does  she  know 

anything  about "  Alick  hesitated  to  name  the  affair  of 

honor  of  which  he  was  now  so  heartily  ashamed.  "  Does 
she  know  anything  about " 

"  Your  illness  in  Jersey,  or  its  cause  ?  "  said  Dick,  deli- 
cately coming  to  his  help.  "  Of  course  not.  We  were 
not  going  to  tell  her  anything  to  add  to  her  troubles." 

"  You  were  right ! — But  what  a  heartless  wretch  she 
must  think  me,  to  be  in  town  and  to  show  no  interest  hi 
the  loss  of  my  child  ! "  exclaimed  Alexander. 

Dick  could  not  help  remembering  that  Drusilla  had  had 
quite  cause  enough  to  believe  him  a  "  heartless  wretch  " 
without  this.  But  Dick  was  very  good-natured,  so  he 
said: 

"  She  knows  that  you  were  not  in  town.    She  went  to 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  377 

your  hotel  at  once  to  apprize  you  of  the  loss  of  your 
child " 

«  She  did  !  Brasilia  did  that ! "  exclaimed  Alexander, 
interrupting  him. 

"  Yes,  she  did — within  an  hour  after  the  discovery  was 
made,  and " 

"  Bless  her !  bless  her !  "  fervently  ejaculated  Alex- 
ander. 

— "  She  was  told  that  you  had  left  town  for  Southamp- 
ton. I  think  she  received  the  impression  that  you  had 
sailed  for  America." 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  that.  But  is  it  not  strange  that  she 
did  not  see  that  ill-natured  paragraph  in  the  papers  refer- 
ring to  the " 

"  Not  at  all.  The  paragraph  in  question  was  in  but  one 
day's  issue,  and  that  was  the  day  she  was  in  her  greatest 
agony  about  her  child ;  and  besides,  she  never  has  looked 
at  paper  or  book  since  her  heavy  loss.  She  has  done 
nothing  but  pray  and  search,  as  I  said  before." 

"  Poor  child  !  poor  child  !  Dick,  tell  her  nothing  of  me. 
I  do  not  wish  that  she  shall  see  me,  or  hear  from  me, 
until  I  bring  her  the  child.  But  give  my  love  and  thanks 
to  my  uncle,  and  tell  him  what  I  am  about.  But  here 
comes  the  waiter." 

Breakfast  was  brought  in  and  arranged  upon  the  table, 
and  the  friends  drew  up  to  it. 

Alexander  ate  nothing,  but  he  drank  down  in  quick 
succession  about  six  cups  of  coffee ;  for  "  sorrow  is  dry," 
just  as  surely  as  if  the  drunkards  had  never  said  it  was, 
and  made  it  an  excuse  for  more  drinking. 

Then  Alexander  got  up  from  the  table  and  said : 

"  I  would  like  to  meet  you  here  every  morning  about 
this  hour  for  a  few  minutes  to  compare  notes.  Would  it 
be  convenient  or  agreeable  ?  " 

"  Certainly — both,  Alick.  I  am  entirely  at  your  service . 
And  God  grant  you  success  ! " 

Then  Alexander  took  up  his  hat  and  gloves,  saying : 

"  I  am  going  to  Police  Head-Quarters  first." 

Dick  laughed  lugubriously. 

"  Alick,"  he  said,  "  the  detective  police  have  been  using 
their  utmost  skill  to  find  the  lost  child.  They  have  been 
hard  at  work  for  a  month." 


378  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"  I  know  it,  but  they  work  in  a  routine ;  they  also  have 
come  to  move  in  a  groove.  The  thieves  know  the  detec- 
tives' ways  by  this  time  and  elude  them.  I  shall  go  about 
the  business  in  an  original  manner.  Good-by,  Dick.  I 
thank  you  earnestly  for  all  your  patient  forbearance  and 
goodness  to  me.  Help  them  to  take  care  of  my  poor 
girl." 

«*  Certainly  I  will.  But,  Alick !  do  you  take  care  of 
yourself.  It  is  very  damp." 

u  Never  fear.  No  one  takes  cold  who  has  so  much  else 
to  think  about  and  do.  "Well,  once  more — good-by  till 
to-morrow,  Dick." 

And  the  friends  shook  hands  and  parted. 

Alexander  threw  himself  into  his  cab,  and  drove  off  to 
Scotland  Yard. 

There  he  saw  the  chief  of  police,  and  had  a  long  talk 
with  him.  Under  the  seal  of  confidence,  he  explained 
something  of  the  circumstances  of  his  marriage,  his  tem- 
porary estrangement  from  his  wife,  who  bore  his  family 
name ;  and  of  his  subsequent  accession  to  the  title  and 
estate  of  Killcrichtoun — a  title  which,  it  appeared,  his 
wife  shrank  from  sharing  until  they  should  be  reconciled. 
This,  he  said,  he  divulged  that  the  chief  might  understand 
why  it  was  that  he  took  so  deep  an  interest,  and  was  will- 
ing to  pay  so  high  a  reward,  and  give  besides  all  his  own 
time  and  attention  for  the  recovery  of  the  lost  child. 

These  circumstances  and  all  others  he  deemed  necessary 
he  explained  to  the  chief,  who,  by  the  way,  had  heard  it  all 
before  from  Dick,  although  he  did  not  deem  it  discreet  to 
interrupt  Lord  Killcrichtoun's  narrative  by  telling  him 
so. 

Alexander  also  made  some  suggestions  as  to  the  best 
manner  of  conducting  the  further  search,  that  the  chief 
declared  to  have  been  inspired 

After  leaving  Scotland  Yard,  Alexander  went  to  his 
apartments  at  Mivart's,  where  he  found  that  his  valet  had 
unpacked  and  arranged  his  clothes  and  toilet  apparatus, 
and  had  brought  up  the  letters  and  papers  that  had  ac- 
cumulated for  him  during  him  absence. 

He  looked  over  his  letters,  but  found  nothing  of  great 
importance. 

Then  lie  sent  for  the  clerk  of  the  house  and  made  in- 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  3f9 

quiries  as  to  who  had  called  on  him,  or  what  had  happened 
concerning  him  during  the  last  month. 

He  heard  in  reply  several  things  in  which  we  are  not 
interested,  and  one  thing  in  which  we  are,  rather — 
namely,  the  visit  of  two  ladies,  who  inquired  for  him  in 
connection  with  the  missing  child. 

Of  course  he  knew  at  once  that  the  ladies  referred  to 
must  have  been  Anna  and  Brasilia,  and  the  child  little 
Lenny. 

He  made  very  particular  inquiries  concerning  these 
visitors  merely  because  he  liked  to  hear  of  Brasilia ;  and 
havmg  learned  all  that  the  clerk  had  to  tell,  he  thanked 
and  dismissed  him. 

For  the  next  eight  days  Alexander  occupied  himself  by 
carrying  into  execution  all  the  ingenious  plans  he  had 
originated  for  finding  the  child;  but  as  none  of  these 
plans  succeeded,  it  is  not  necessary  to  detail  them. 

It  was  fated  that  the  father  should  find  the  child  when 
he  was  not  looking  for  him,  but  when  he  was  in  the  act 
of  performing  a  piece  of  disinterested  benevolence. 

And  this  is  how  it  came  about : 

Among  other  better  thoughts  that  had  visited  Alex- 
ander on  his  bed  of  illness  were  certain  reflections  in  con- 
nection with  his  distant  relative — our  poor  gentleman. 
His  mind  dwelt  much  upon  the  poor  usher  and  his  half- 
famished  family,  and  he  reproved  himself  for  his  late 
strange,  incomprehensible  blindness,  thoughtlessness  and 
selfishness  in  regard  to  them. 

"  A  wife  and  six  children  to  be  fed  and  clothed  on  sixty 
pounds  a  year !  Good  Heaven !  how  could  I  have  been 
so  preoccupied  as  not  to  think  of  this  when  I  had  the 
power  to  help  them — I  who  fling  away  every  day  of  my 
idle  and  worthless  life  as  much  as  he  gets  for  his  hard 
work  and  usefulness  a  whole  year.  I  ought  to  do  some- 
thing for  him.  I  ought  to  have  done  it  long  ago.  Bub 
the  question  is — what  to  do?  He  is  as  proud  as  Satan, 
and  he  would  not  take  money." 

After  much  reflection,  Alexander  hit  upon  a  plan  of 
helping  the  poor  gentleman  without  hurting  his  pride. 
It  was  a  plan  that  required  some  considerable  sacrifice  on 
Alexander's  part ;  and  when  you  hear  of  it  I  think  yoa 
will  say  that  it  was  generous,  if  not  magnanimous. 


380  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

On  Alexander's  arrival  in  London,  and  for  the  first 
eight  days  after  that,  he  had  been  so  occupied  with  the 
search  for  his  child  that  he  had  almost  forgotten  his  plans 
for  the  relief  of  poor  Everage  ;  but  on  this  ninth  day  he 
opened  his  eyes  in  the  morning  with  these  thoughts : 

"  I  have  been  here  more  than  a  week,  and  spent  all  my 
time,  energy  and  ingenuity  hi  the  search,  and  I  have  not 
found  my  child  yet." 

And  then  he  fell  into  profound  reverie,  in  the  midst  of 
which  some  good  angel  whispered  to  his  spirit : 

"  You  have  been  here  eight  days,  intent  only  upon  finding 
your  child  and  taking  him  to  his  mother  as  a  peace  offering, 
and  all  for  your  own  happiness ;  and  you  have  not  once 
thought  of  the  poor  gentleman  and  his  famishing  family." 

**  No,  I  have  not,"  said  Alexander  to  himself,  "  when  it 
would  have  required  no  more  than  fifteen  minutes  to  have 
done  it  either.  I  will  find  time  to  see  poor  Everage  to-day, 
and  put  him  out  of  his  misery." 

And  he  kept  his  word. 

He  knew  exactly  where  the  Newton  Institute  was  situ- 
ated, and  he  knew  the  hour  of  the  afternoon  at  which  the 
boys  were  dismissed,  and  at  that  hour  he  walked  towards 
the  Institute  to  meet  Everage  as  the  latter  should  come  out 
after  his  pupils.  He  met  first  a  troop  of  boys,  and  after- 
wards saw  him  come  creeping  along.  But  oh !  how 
changed  since  Alexander  had  last  seen  him  !  He  was  now 
pale,  thin,  haggard,  and  somewhat  gray.  His  eyes  were 
cast  down,  and  his  shoulders  were  bowed,  and  he  crept 
along  like  an  old  man  of  eighty. 

The  truth  is  that  the  poor  gentleman  had  mistaken  his 
vocation — it  was  not  that  of  a  deep-dyed  villain  ;  he  had  no 
genius  for  crime,  and  moreover,  he  had  no  stomach  for  it ; 
it  did  not  agree  with  him  ;  he  could  not  digest  it ;  it  made 
him  ill,  and  was  like  to  kill  him  unless  he  could  get  it  off 
his  stomach,  or — his  conscience. 

His  passions,  his  poverty,  and  his  temptations  had  drawn 
him  on  to  a  deed  which,  just  as  soon  as  it  was  done,  filled 
his  soul  with  a  corroding  remorse. 

Of  all  who  suffered  from  the  abduction  of  little  Lenny, 
Clarence  Everage,  the  abductor,  suffered  the  most.  Every 
night  he  was  drawn  by  some  irresistible  influence  to  look 
upon  his  little  victim. 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  381 

He  was  himself  a  very  loving  father,  and  he  had  a  little 
girl  of  Lenny's  age,  who  was  his  favorite  child,  named 
Clara,  after  himself  ;  and  when  he  saw  poor  Lenny  fading 
in  the  close  confinement  of  that  dark,  damp  attic,  and  for 
the  want  of  sunshine,  and  weeping  and  wailing  for  his 
mother,  the  sinner's  remorse  was  intensified  to  agony.  He 
let  his  own  family  suffer  that  he  might  bring  a  few  dain- 
ties to  little  Lenny. 

The  other  lodgers  in  the  house,  who  had  never  had  a 
glimpse  of  the  baby-boy,  but  who  knew  that  a  child  had 
been  put  to  "  mind  "  with  Mother  Rooter,  and  who  saw 
this  poor,  shabby  gentleman  come  every  night  to  bring  it 
"goodies,"  jumped  to  the  natural  conclusion  that  he  was 
the  father  of  the  boy,  whom  for  some  reason  or  other  he 
was  keeping  in  concealment ;  and  this  supposition  shut 
out  the  suspicion  that  little  Lenny  was  the  missing  child 
whose  loss  was  posted  all  over  London.  We  who  know  the 
facts  easily  see  the  connection  between  the  two  sets  of 
circumstances ;  but  they  who  did  not  even  suspect  them, 
could  see  no  such  relations. 

So  deep  was  the  remorse  of  poor  Everage,  that  it  not 
only  dried  up  his  blood,  and  wasted  his  flesh,  and  bowed 
his  frame,  and  blanched  his  hair,  but  it  drove  him  to  the 
desperate  determination  to  take  the  child  and  go  to  police 
head-quarters  and  give  himself  up  as  its  abductor.  And 
so  fixed  was  his  resolution  that  he  was  only  waiting  for 
his  wife  to  get  safely  over  her  confinement,  which  was 
daily  expected,  before  he  should  do  this. 

In  this  very  frame  of  mind,  and  thinking  of  this  very 
purpose,  he  came  down  the  street  to  where  Alexander 
was  waiting  for  him. 

"  Poor  soul !  "  thought  Alick,  as  he  gazed  upon  him, 
"  he  is  ageing  very  fast.  His  cares  are  too  much  for  him. 
Or,  perhaps,  he  has  been  ill,  or  in  some  distress  even 
greater  than  usual.  I  ought  to  have  looked  after  him 
long  ago.  I  will  do  it  at  once." 

And  Alick  quickened  his  steps  to  overtake  the  poor 
gentleman,  who,  in  his  deep  preoccupation  of  mind,  had 
passed  without  even  lifting  his  eyes  from  the  ground. 

Alexander  quickly  overtook  him,  and,  lightly  touching 
his  arm,  said : 

«  Everage  ?  " 


382  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

The  poor  gentleman  started,  turned  around,  and,  seeing 
Alexander,  looked  aghast,  as  a  criminal  might  at  a  con- 
stable. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Everage  ?  I  fear  you  have  been  ill, " 
said  Alick. 

Everage  shook  in  every  limb,  and  said  nothing. 

"  You  have  been  ill,  that  is  plain  enough  !  Come — shall 
we  hail  a  cab,  and  go  to  Very's  ?  It  is  my  turn  now,  you 
remember, "  said  Alick  cheerfully. 

But  Everage  continued  to  gaze  at  him  aghast,  until  at 
length  he  got  breath  enough  to  gasp : 

"  Good  Heaven,  my  lord,  is  it  you  ?  " 

"  Come,  Everage ;  your  nerves  are  all  unstrung,  and 
you're  shocked  to  see  me  looking  so  like  a  ghost.  Indeed,  I 
had  liked  to  have  been  one.  But  here  I  am,  alive  at 
least,  and  likely  to  get  well.  Come — shall  it  be  Very's  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no — not  that ! "  groaned  the  poor  gentleman. 

"  The  green-turtle  soup  is  prime ;  now  shall  we  go  to 
that  place  hi  the  Exchange  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no,  Lord  Killcrichtoun !  I  can  go  nowhere  to 
eat  or  to  drink  with  you  !  I  cannot !  I  cannot !  Heaven 
have  mercy  on  me !  I  am  a  lost  soul." 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  you,  Everage  ?  " 

"I  am  ill,  ill,  ill ! " 

"  Your  nervous  system  is  broken  down  ;  life  has  been 
too  hard  with  you,  my  friend !  But  come — I  have  news  fov 
you  that  will  cheer  you  up  !  Let  us  drop  into  the  nearest 
tavern,  and  get  a  private  room,  where  we  may  converse 
confidentially, — here  is  the  '  King's  Head  '  near,  shall  we 
go  there  and  have  something  comfortable  ?  " 

"  Xo,  no,  no ;  I  told  you  I  would  go  nowhere  to  eat  or 
drink  with  you,  my  lord  !  " 

"  Is  your  digestive  apparatus  so  much  out  of  order  as 
all  that  ?  Well,  then,  if  you  don't  go  to  eat  and  drink,  we 
will  go  to  talk.  I  tell  you  I  have  news  for  you — 'you 
will  hear  of  something  to  your  advantage, '  as  the  mysteri- 
ous newspaper  paragraphs  say." 

"  Well,  well,  I  will  go  with  you,  my  lord ;  and  perhaps 
I  will  tell  you  *  something  to  your  advantage,'  "  he  mut- 
tered, in  a  low  tone. 

So  they  went  to  the  King's  Head,"  and  Alick  called 
for  a  private  parlor,  where  they  sat  down  to  talk. 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  383 

«  Everage,"  said  Alick,  gravely,  "I  have  had  a  long  and 
dangerous  fit  of  illness,  from  which  I  have  scarcely  yet 
recovered." 

"  Indeed,  my  lord  !  I  had  not  heard  of  it ;  but,  really 
now  I  observe  that  you  do  not  look  well.  I  am  sorry,  my 
lord." 

"  Everage,  you  heard  of  the  affair  hi  which  I  was  en- 
gaged? the " 

The  word  stuck  in  his  throat ;  he  would  not  utter  it. 

Everage  looked  puzzled  for  a  moment. 

"You  know — the  affair  in  which  I  was  engaged  in 
Jersey!  the " 

"  Oh,  yes,  certainly,  my  lord  ;  I  heard  of  the " 

And,  in  courtesy,  the  poor  gentleman  paused  exactly 
where  his  friend  had  done. 

"  Well,  Everage,  I  was  severely  wounded,  and,  in  the  ill- 
ness that  followed,  I  came  nearer  facing  my  Judge  than  I 
ever  expected  to  do,  without  hearing  my  sentence.  In  the 
convalescence  that  followed,  you  may  believe  that  I  was 
brought  to  very  serious  reflection.  Among  other  sub- 
jects, I  thought  of  you,  Everage,  and  took  myself  to  task 
for  not  having  done  so  before — nay,  now,  do  not  shrink 
and  turn  from  me ;  I  mean  no  such  an  impertinence  as 
patronage  to  you,  Everage.  I  would  just  as  soon  venture 
to  patronize  one  of  the  royal  princes.  But  I  thought  of 
a  plan  for  improving  the  circumstances  of  your  family, 
which  even  you  might  meet  without  detriment  to  your 
honest  pride." 

"  Oh,  Heaven  !  oh,  Heaven,  have  mercy  on  me  ! "  groaned 
the  poor  gentleman. 

"Everage,  you  are  exhausted;  you  really  must  have 
something,"  said  Alick. 

And  he  rang  for  a  waiter,  and  ordered  brandy  ;  which 
was  quickly  brought. 

Everage  gulped  a  small  glassful  and  then  said : 

"  You  thought  of  me — you  thought  of  me  on  your  sick- 
bed !  You  think  of  me  still  in  your  days  of  deep  affliction  ! 
for  you  cannot  have  come  to  London  without  learning  the 
loss  of " 

Everage's  voice  broke  down  hi  sobs. 

"  My  child  ?  yes  ;  I  learned  the  loss  from  the  newspapers 
— from  the  very  first  newspapers  that  fell  into  my  hands 


384:  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

after  I  was  convalescent.  I  have  thought  of  little  else 
since  my  arrival.  For  the  last  eight  days,  I  have  done 
nothing  but  devise  and  carry  out  plans  for  his  recovery. 
But,  this  morning,  I  remembered  you  and  your  affairs,  and 
reproached  myself  for  forgetting  them.  So,  now " 

"  But,  about  your  child, — how  can  you  think  of  any  one 
or  of  anything  while  he  is  missing  ?  " 

"  Because  I  cherish  a  great  faith  that  I  shall  soon  find 
him.  But  about  your  affairs.  I  wish  to  speak  of  them," 
said  Alick. 

The  poor  gentleman  waved  his  hand  with  a  gesture  of 
resignation  and  became  silent. 

"  Everage,  on  that  bed  of  illness  and  self-examination, 
I  made  many  a  retrospection  of  my  past  life,  and  many 
a  resolution  for  my  future  one.  Among  my  retrospections 
was  a  review  of  my  motives  in  going  to  so  much  trouble 
and  expense  in  establishing  my  claim  to  the  Barony  of 
Killcrichtoun,  which  I  really  did  not  want.  I  believe  now 
that  my  only  incentives  to  that  action  were  idleness  and 
ennui.  I  had  nothing  to  do;  and  I  was  weary  of  my  life. 
But  having  made  the  discovery  of  my  descent  from  the 
old  baron,  I  took  some  little  interest  in  tracing  back  the 
lineage ;  and  found  some  little  excitement  in  following  up 
the  investigation  and  proving  my  claim.  But  as  soon  as 
all  that  was  over  and  I  found  myself  addressed  on  all 
sides  as  '  Lord  Killcrichtoun,'  *  your  lordship,'  and  '  my 
lord,' — on  my  soul,  Everage,  I  felt  heartily  ashamed  of 
myself  and  title " 

"  Yet  it  is  an  ancient  and  an  honorable  title,"  sighed 
the  poor  gentleman,  and  he  thought — "  He  values  it  so 
lightly,  this  proud  Virginian,  while  I — I  have  staked  my 
soul  upon  the  bare  chance  of  some  day  gaining  it ! " 

"  Yes,  it  is  an  ancient  and  honorable  title  ;  and  it  would 
well  become  an  English  heir — it  would  well  become  your- 
self, Everage !  And  but  for  me  you  would  have  been  the 
bearer  of  it." 

"  But  for  you,  my  lord,  I  should  never  have  heard  of 
my  remote  connection  with  it." 

"  Everage,  my  friend,  will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  leave 
out  all  reference  to  that  title  in  speaking  to  me  ?  To 
hear  it  so  applied  makes  me  feel  like  a  fool  and  that  is 
a  fact.  I  am  a  plain  Republican  gentleman,  a  little  proud 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  385 

or  perhaps  I  should  say,  conceited,  on  account  of  my  old 
State,  and  still  more  so  in  respect  of  my  native  country ; 
but  I  am  not  such  an  ass  as  to  want  to  be  a  '  Lord.' 
Enough  of  that.  What  I  have  said,  what  I  may  yet  say 
of  myself  will  only  be  to  explain  my  plan  for  you.  Listen. 
Everage  ;  I  shall  not  claim  your  attention  very  long." 

"  I  am  listening,  sir." 

I  am  going  to  try  to  be  reconciled  to  my  poor  wife. 
(My  illness  brought  me  to  my  senses  on  that  subject  also.) 
I  am  going  to  try  to  be  reconciled  to  my  wife  ;  and  then 
we  are  going  to  return  to  our  native  land.  But  before  I 
do  either — before  I  do  anything — I  shall  make  over  the 
Killcrichtoun  estate  to  you.'"' 

At  this  announcement  the  poor  gentleman  sprang  to 
his  feet,  as  if  he  had  been  shot  from  his  chair ;  then, 
sinking  back  again,  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands 
and  uttered  such  deep,  heart-rending  groans  as  could  only 
be  wrenched  from  a  bosom  wrung  by  remorse. 

"  Everage !  Everage !  my  friend,  what  is  the  matter  ? 
Good  Heavens !  how  nervous  you  are !  How  shattered 
yor.r  health  must  be  !  But  you  will  recover  your  strength 
again  when  you  leave  this  stifling  atmosphere  composed 
of  smoke  and  fog,  and  get  away  to  the  bracing  breezes  of 
the  Highlands  ! "  said  Alick,  kindly. 

"  Too  late  !  too  late  !  too  late  ! "  moaned  Everage. 

"  Too  late  ?  No,  it  isn't.  You  have  no  fatal  malady. 
You  are  only  broken  down  by  hard  work  !  You  will  re- 
cover in  the  Highlands.  Think  how  your  children  will 
enjoy  the  freedom  and  fine  air  of  the  mountains.  And 
you  can  take  them  to  Killcrichtoun  and  enter  on  posses- 
sion as  soon  as  you  like.  The  necessary  deeds  of  convey- 
ance of  the  land  shall  be  made  out  as  soon  as  I  can  get 
the  slow  lawyers  to  do  it." 

"  It  is  too  much  !  it  is  too  much  !  Great  Heaven !  this 
is  too  much  to  bear !  You  overwhelm  me,  my  lord ! " 
groaned  Everage. 

"  But  why  do  you  say  so  ?  Everage  1  look  here  !  I 
really  do  think  that  you  have  more  right — a  great  deal 
more  right  to  the  estate  than  I  have.  You  and  all  your 
ancestors  were  British  born.  I  and  my  immediate  pro- 
genitors were  American  born.  What  right  had  I  to  come 
over  here  and  claim  this  title  and  estate  ?  None  what- 
2S 


386  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

ever  in  right,  whatever  I  might  have  had  in  law.  And  I 
cannot  continue  to  hold  it  and  to  transmit  it  to  my  son, 
unless  I  expatriate  myself  and  become  a  British  subject. 
And  I  will  not  do  that.  Therefore  I  do  not  want  Killcrich- 
touii.  A  man  is  not  even  to  be  thanked  for  giving  away 
what  he  don't  want.  As  I  said  before,  I  shall  make  over 
the  whole  of  the  landed  estate  to  you.  I  wish  to  Heaven 
I  could  also  give  you  the  title ;  but  that  cannot  be  so 
transferred,  I  believe  ;  so  the  title  must  be  dropped ;  for, 
of  course,  I  cannot  continue  to  bear  it  in  my  own  country 
—it  would  make  me  simply  ridiculous.  When,  however, 
you  become  the  owner  of  Killcrichtoun,  although  you  can- 
not be  the  baron,  yet  you  will  have  the  territorial  title, 
according  to  the  custom  of  Scotland.  You  will  be  called 
'  Killcrichtoun  '  or  '  Everage  of  Killcrichtoun.'  Come, 
come  !  cheer  up,  man  !  " 

"  Too  much !  it  is  too  much  !  too  much  and  too  late  !  " 
groaned  the  poor  gentleman,  as  he  sat  with  his  hands 
clasped  tightly  around  his  head,  his  bosom  heaving  and 
his  eyes  streaming  with  tears. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  PEACE-OFFERING. —  Continued. 

To  Alick  there  seemed  something  awful  in  Everage's 
tremendous  emotion.  He  had  been  a  very  handsome,  fine- 
looking  man,  with  that  natural  air  of  majesty  and  grace 
which  not  even  the  bitterness  of  poverty  and  servitude 
could  take  from  him  ;  but  now  he  was  all  broken  down. 

Deep  compassion  moved  the  heart  of  Alick  as  he  gazed 
ni  him. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Everage  ?  "   he  softly  inquired. 

"  Coals  of  fire !  Coals  of  fire  answered  the  conscience- 
utricken  man.  And  covering  his  bowed  face  with  his 
nands,  '  he  wept  bitterly,'  as  repentant  Peter  wept. 

Alexander  looked  on  with  awe  for  an  instant,  and  then 
turned  away  his  head  ;  he  could  not  bear  to  see  such 
abject  grief. 

At  length,  with  an  effort,  Everage  gained  a  mastery 
over  his  passion  and  raised  his  head,  and  with  a  look  of 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  387 

anguish  still  upon  his  face,  and  hi  a  voice  still  vibrating 
with  intense  emotion,  he  said  : 

"  You  ask  me  what  is  the  matter  ?  Remorse  is  killing 
me  !  Remorse !  and  now  your  kindness !  " 

" '  Remorse,'  Everage  ?  "  exclaimed  Alexander,  in  con- 
sternation. 

"  Yes,  remorse  !  I  am  a  criminal  of  the  darkest  dye  !  I 
am  not  worthy  to  live  ! " 

"  A  criminal ! — You  !  " 

"  Yes,  I ! — a  God  forsaken  criminal." 

"  God  never  forsakes  the  greatest  criminal,  being  peni- 
tent. But  you,  Everage  !  I  cannot  understand !  I  cannot 
believe  you  to  be  a  criminal,"  answered  Alexander,  un- 
able to  recover  from  his  consternation,  and  mentally  run- 
ning over  the  sins  most  likely  to  be  committed  by  a  poor 
gentleman  under  the  influence  of  overpowering  temp- 
tation. Was  it  embezzlement  ?  swindling  ?  No,  he  could 
have  had  no  opportunity  of  dabbling  in  either  of  these. 
Was  it  forgery  ?  Yes,  it  was  most  likely  forgery.  The 
poor  usher  had  probably,  under  the  pressure  of  terrible 
want,  forged  his  employer's  name  to  a  check,  or  a  note, 
or  something  of  the  sort,  and  was  now  dying  of  remorse 
and  shame,  and  perhaps  also  of  terror.  And  Alick  re- 
solved to  help  him,  if  help  were  possible. 

"  Everage,"  he  asked  kindly,  "  do  you  wish  to  confide 
in  me  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  CONFESS  to  you,  since  the  offense  was  com- 
mitted against  you,"  groaned  the  heart-broken  man. 

"  Against  me  f  "  exclaimed  Alexander,  in  a  tone  of  sur- 
prise that  was  not  without  pleasure  ;  for  he  instantly 
thought — "  Oh,  if  he  has  only  forged  my  name  to  a  cheque 
or  a  note,  or  anything  of  the  sort,  it  will  be  perfectly 
easy  to  save  him.  It  will  only  be  for  me  to  take  up  the 
paper  without  saying  anything  about  it  ;  or,  at  worst,  to 
acknowledge  the  signature."  Then,  speaking  softly,  he 
said : 

"  Tell  me  everything,  Everage,  freely  as  one  sinner 
speaking  to  another  ;  for  I,  too,  have  sinned  too  deeply 
to  have  any  sort  of  right  to  judge  harshly.  Speak  freely, 
Everage." 

Still  for  a  moment  the  poor  gentleman  remained  silent, 
knew  that,  after  having  told  all,  his  bosom  would 


388  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

feel  somewhat  relieved,  yet  he  could  scarcely  bring  him, 
self  to  utter  his  own  shame. 

"  I  will  tell  you  everything.  And  the  more  willingly 
because  reparation  is  still  in  my  power." 

M  But,  Everage,  if  such  reparation  should  hi  any  way 
distress  you,  it  need  not  be  made.  Nay,  if  the  confession 
itself  will  distress  you,  withhold  it^  my  friend.  If,  as  you 
say,  the  offense  is  against  me,  you  need  not  tell  it ;  and 
believe  me,  neither  you  nor  any  one  else  shall  ever  hear 
of  it,"  said  Alick,  kindly. 

"  Every  gentle,  generous  word  you  speak  stabs  my 
rieart  like  a  reproach.  I  must  tell  you  all.  It  will  shame 
me,  but  it  will  relieve  me  to  do  so.  Reparation  must 
be  made ;  and  it  will  not  distress  but  comfort  me  to  make 
it ;  nay,  it  will  almost  do  away  my  guilt.  It  is  a  meas- 
ure that  I  had  already  resolved  upon.  I  was  only  wait- 
ing for  my  poor  wife  to  get  over  her  impending  accouche- 
ment before  carrying  it  into  effect ;  for  in  my  poor  Belle's 
present  critical  condition,  the  excitement  of  a  criminal 
trial  would  surely  kill  her.  And  thus  my  little  girls 
would  be  bereft  of  both  parents." 

"  Everage,  you  talk  wildly !  If  the  offense  is  against 
me,  it  is  already  condoned.  You  may  reveal  it  or  not  as 
you  please.  For  myself,  I  do  not  see  the  need  of  your 
doing  so." 

tt  That  is  because  you  do  not  know  the  nature  of  my 
crime !  Lord  Killcrichtoun,  it  was  I  who  caused  your  child 
to  be  abducted ! — There !  kill  me  where  I  stand  if  you 
like !  Xo  one  will  think  of  blaming  you,"  said  Everage, 
in  a  broken  voice,  as  he  tottered  to  his  feet  and  stood  be- 
fore little  Lenny's  father. 

But  Alexander  gazed  at  him  hi  amazement  and  incre- 
dulity for  a  full  minute  before  he  found  ideas  or  words  to 
reply.  Then  he  exclaimed : 

"Everage,  you  are  mad  to  think  so!  What  motive 
could  you  possibly  have  had  for  getting  possession  of  my 
child  ?  You  who  have  so  many  of  your  own  ?  I  say  you 
are  mad  to  think  it." 

**  No,"  said  Everage,  dropping  back  in  his  chair  and 
covering  his  face.  "  Xo,  not  mad  now :  but  I  was  mad 
then,  when  I  caused  the  child  to  be  carried  off  I  T  *•'••>•» 
blind,  and  Heaven- forsaken !  " 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  389 

"Not  Heaven- forsaken,  Everage,  or  you  would  not 
have  been  brought  to  this  confession.  But  is  this  really 
true  ?  You  caused  the  child  to  be  carried  off  ?  You  said 
the  reparation  was  still  in  your  power ! — that  means  the 
child  still  lives  !  Where  is  he  ?  Is  he  in  London  ?  I* 
he  in  our  reach?  Is  he  well?"  inquired  Alexander 
scarcely  able  to  control  the  violence  of  his  emotions — his 
strangely  mingled  and  warring  emotions — of  astonish- 
ment, indignation,  ecstasy  and  impatience. 

"  Yes,  to  all  your  questions,"  answered  Everage,  drop- 
ping his  face  into  his  hands. 

«  But,  good  Heaven,  what  possible  motive  could  you 
have  had  for  carrying  off  my  child?  You  must  have 
been  mad  !  "  . 

"  I  was !  I  was,  my  lord !  mad  and  blind  ana  God-for- 
saken !  I  was  tempted  beyond " 

"  Stop,  Everage !  don't  tell  me  just  now.  I  must  see 
my  boy  immediately.  Can  you  take  me  to  him  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  poor  gentleman,  in  an  almost  in- 
audible voice. 

«  How  far  is  it  ?  "  asked  Alexander,  with  his  hand  upon 
the  bell. 

«  About  two  miles  from  here,"  breathed  Everage. 

"  Then  we  must  have  a  carriage,"  observed  Alexander, 
ringing  the  bell. 

"  A  cab,  immediately  !  "  he  said,  as  the  waiter  appeared. 

"  And  now,  Everage,"  he  continued,  when  they  were 
left  alone  together  again,  "  now  tell  me  what  could  possi- 
bly have  caused  you  to  have  my  child  carried  off.  Do 
you  know  his  loss  has  nearly  broken  his  mother's  heart  ?  " 

"Dolwo*  know  it?  Have  I  not  felt  it?  felt  it  day 
and  night  since  the  devil  deluded  me  into  doing  this 
deed?  Lord  Killcrichtoun,  look  at  me  !  Seethe  wreck 
remorse  has  made  of  me !  No  sooner  had  I  done  this  deed 
than  remorse,  like  a  consuming  fire,  than  which  the  fires 
of  Hell  cannot  be  fiercer,  entered  my  heart  and  burned 
my  life  away  to  this." 

"  Burned  your  guilt  away,  Everage,  but  not  your  life." 

"  This  agony  of  remorse  I  would  not  have  borne  for  a 
week,  but  for  my  wife's  critical  condition." 

"  But  she  must  have  been  very  much  distressed  by  the 
change  in  you." 


390  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

u  She  was ;  but  she  ascribed  it  all  to  overwork  in  the 
school.  And  I  soothed  her  by  saying  that  after  her  con- 
finement I  should  leave  the  school.  I  did  not  tell  her, 
for  the  Old  Bailey." 

"  Hush,  Everage,  there  will  be  nothing  of  that  sort. 
But  you  have  not  yet  told  me  what  it  was  that  tempted 
you  to  load  thus  your  conscience." 

"  I  will  tell  you  all — I  will  keep  nothing  back,  and  then 
you  can  do  as  you  please." 

But,  before  he  could  say  another  word,  the  waiter 
opened  the  door,  and  announced  the  cab  that  had  been 
ordered. 

Alexander  and  Everage  left  the  house,  Everage  tottering 
with  weakness  and  scarcely  able  to  walk  without  the  sup- 
port  of  Alexander's  arm,  which  was  readily  given  him. 

Everage  gave  the  order. 

«  Black  street,  Blackfriars'  Road." 

And  then,  with  the  help  of  Alexander,  entered  the  cab. 

When  they  were  both  seated  and  the  vehicle  was  in 
motion,  Everage  commenced  the  story  of  little  Lenny's 
abduction,  and  the  causes  that  led  to  the  act. 

With  a  shame-bowed  head,  in  a  broken  and  almost  inau- 
dible voice,  he  spoke  of  the  bitterness  of  his  poverty  and 
his  servitude ;  of  the  love,  which  was  agony,  for  his  beauti- 
ful, pale-faced  wife,  and  lovely,  fading  little  girls  ;  of  the 
jealousy  with  which  he  saw  the  Killcrichtoun  estate,  that 
might  have  been  his  own,  and  the  salvation  of  his  famish- 
ing family,  pass  away  to  a  foreigner,  so  wealthy  that  he 
cared  nothing  for  the  half- sterile  Highland  acres  ;  of  his 
belief  that  the  present  baron's  life  was  so  precarious  that 
in  a  very  short  time  no  one  but  little  Lenny  would  stand 
between  himself  and  the  inheritance  of  Killcrichtoun ;  and 
of  the  intensity  of  the  temptation  that  finally  maddened 
and  conquered  him,  and  drew  him  on  to  crime  ;  and  finally, 
again  he  spoke  of  the  fierce  remorse  that  like  the  fires  of 
Tophet  devoured  his  life. 

"  And  now,"  he  concluded,  "  do  with  me  what  you  will ! 
I  have  nothing  to  say  in  my  defense,  nothing  whatever  ! 
You  can  prosecute  me  for  the  abduction.  You  can  send 
me  to  penal  servitude  for  Heaven  knows  how  many 
years !  It  will  be  just !  I  only  entreat  you,  in  any  case, 
not  to  let  my  innocent  family  starve ! " 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  391 

"  My  poor  Everage  !  I  could  not  look  in  your  face  and 
see  the  wreck  remorse  has  made  of  you,  and  raise  my  hand 
or  voice  against  you  !  *  Penal  servitude  ! '  Your  whole 
life  has  been  penal  servitude !  Besides,  besides,  in  my 
more  favored  position,  without  any  of  the  temptations  that 
beset  you,  I  myself  have  been  too  great  a  sinner  to  dare  to 
be  a  harsh  judge !  In  your  position,  Everage,  heaven 
knows,  I  might  have  been  tempted  to  do  the  same 
things  !  "  said  Alexander,  gravely. 

"  But  I  never  meant  to  harm  the  child.  I  would  Tiave 
taken  the  best  care  of  him  I  could." 

"  I  believe  you,  Everage.  And  let  me  find  the  child 
alive  and  well,  and  let  me  have  the  happiness  of  laying 
him  upon  his  mother's  lap ;  and  then  let  the  whole  matter 
pass  into  forgetfulness.  It  shall  not  in  any  way  interfere 
with  my  plans  for  your  welfare." 

"  God  bless  you,  sir !  "  wept  the  poor  gentleman ;  «  God, 
in  his  great  mercy,  bless  you ! " 

"  Black  street,  sir,"  said  the  cabman,  pulling  up  his 
horses  and  waiting  further  orders. 

"  Turn  into  it  and  drive  on  until  you  reach  Bushe 
Lane.  It  is  on  the  left  hand,"  answered  Everage. 

The  cabman  turned  his  horses'  heads  and  drove  down 
the  street  for  some  distance  and  then  pulled  up  again. 

"  Bushe's  Lane,  sir." 

"  Turn  into  it  and  go  on  until  you  reach  Blood  Alley. 
It  is  also  on  the  left  side,"  said  Everage. 

The  cabman  turned  into  the  dark,  unwholesome  lane 
and  drove  on  for  a  short  distance  and  then  reined  up  his 
horses  again. 

«  Blood  Alley,  sir,"  he  said. 

"  We  must  get  out  here,  the  alley  is  to  narrow  to  admit 
the  passage  of  the  carriage,"  said  Everage  opening  the  door. 

And  both  men  stepped  down  at  the  entrance  of  the 
foul  alley,  dark,  loathsome  and  offensive  to  every  material 
sense  and  moral  sentiment. 

"  Wait  here  until  we  return,"  said  Everage  to  the 
cabman. 

The  man  touched  his  hat  in  assent  as  he  thought  to  him- 

"  Them  two  coves  be  two  detectives  on  the  scent  of 
thieves." 


392  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

Everage  led  the  way  and  Alexander  followed  him,  pick, 
ing  his  steps  as  well  as  he  could  through  the  fermenting 
filth  of  the  alley,  and  shuddering  to  think  his  child  was  ex- 
posed to  such  deadly  air. 

About  midway  down  the  alley  Everage  paused  before  a 
tall,  tottering  tenement  house,  occupied  by  the  lowest 
caste  of  thieves  and  beggars. 

"  Here  is  the  place,"  he  said,  opening  the  door  and  en- 
tering the  passage-way  without  either  obstruction  or  even 
observation ;  for  at  this  hour  the  tenants  were  out  upon 
their  tramps. 

Everage  led  the  way  up  several  nights  of  quaking  stairs 
to  the  attic  floor,  which  certainly,  from  its  height,  had 
the  advantage  of  a  purer  air. 

Everage  opened  a  door  immediately  in  front  of  the 
landing  and  signed  Alexander  to  enter. 

Alick  passed  the  threshold  and  found  himself  in  a  room 
with  a  sloping  roof  and  a  skylight. 

The  room  was  clearer  than  when  he  saw  it  last,  for 
Meg  had  been  supplied  with  soap,  and  had  kept  it  so  for 
little  Lenny's  sake ;  but  it  was  almost  as  bare  of  furniture 
as  before. 

There  were  but  two  persons  present — a  wild-looking, 
dark-haired,  bare-footed  girl  walking  the  floor :  and  a 
child  in  her  arms — a  pale,  wan  baby-boy,  with  his  fair- 
haired  head  dropped  heavily  upon  her  shoulder,  his  violet 
eyes  closed,  and  his  long  fringed  eyelids  lying  down  upon 
his  dead  white  cheeks.  His  little  clothes  were  old  and 
faded  and  patched,  but  as  clean  as  hands  could  make  them. 

As  the  two  men  entered  the  room  the  girl  looked  up, 
pointed  to  the  sleeping  child  and  signed  them  to  be  quiet. 

It  was  too  late.  Poor  little  Lenny  had  become  a 
nervous  and  irritable  sleeper.  The  slightest  noise  would 
awaken  him.  And  now  the  sound  of  approaching  foot- 
steps startled  him  from  his  sleep,  and  he  awoke  with  a 
shiver.  His  first  words  were : 

"  Doosa  tome,  Met?  " 

Then  looking  up  and  seeing  only  two  men,  he  dropped 
his  head  upon  Meg's  shoulder  and  wailed  forth  his  disap- 
pointment : 

"  Doosa  not  tome !  Doosa  not  tome !  Lenny  want  see 
Doosa !  Lenny  want  to  see  Doosa  so  bad !  " 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  393 

«  And  you  shall  see  Doosa,  my  darling  boy !  You  shall 
see  Doosa  before  the  sun  goes  down.  You  shall  sleep  oa 
your  mother's  bosom  to-night,  little'  Lenny  ! "  exclaimed 
Alexander,  in  great  agitation,  as  he  went  to  the  child  and 
held  out  his  arms. 

But  Lenny  turned  away  and  clasped  his  own  arms 
around  Meg's  neck  and  renewed  his  plaintive  cry  : 

"  I  want  to  see  Doosa !  I  want  to  see  Doosa  so  bad  !  I 
don't  want  anybody  esse ! " 

"  And  so  you  shall  see  Doosa,  my  beloved  boy.  Look 
at  me,  little  Lenny!  don't  you  know  me?"  coaxed 
Alexander. 

"  Ess,  I  do !   But  I  want  see  Doosa !  " 

"  Look  at  me,  my  darling !  Come  to  me  !  I  will  take 
you  to  Doosa  directly !  "  pleaded  Alexander,  holding  out 
his  arms  and  gazing  earnestly  in  the  face  of  his  son. 

Now  little  Lenny  had  been  deceived  by  fair  but  false 
promises,  and  his  faith  was  failing.  But  there  was  an 
earnest  truthfulness  in  the  looks  and  words  of  the  mam 
that  now  carried  conviction  to  the  heart  of  the  child.  His 
face  lightened,  beamed,  became  transfigured  with  ecstasy: 

"  You  tate  me  see  Doosa ?  You  tate me  now?  "  he  joy- 
ously exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  my  darling,  now  this  moment !  Come  to  me," 
said  Alexander,  still  holding  out  his  arms. 

Lenny  bounded  into  them. 

"  Oh,  sir !  you  will  not  take  him  from  me !  It  would 
break  my  heart !  he  is  all  I  have  to  love  in  the  world,  all 
that  loves  me  !  I  would  work  my  fingers  to  the  bones,  I 
would  for  him !  Please,  sir,  don't  take  him  away  1 "  cried 
Meg,  lifting  the  corner  of  her  apron  to  her  eyes. 

"  I  must  take  him  to  his  mother,  my  girl.  Sne  too  is 
pining  for  him,"  said  Alexander,  kindly. 

"  Oh,  Lenny,  you  won't  leave  me !  You  won't  leave 
poor  Met  ?  "  she  wept,  appealing  to  the  child. 

**  No !  no !  no ! "  said  Master  Leonard,  peremptorily. 
«  Not  leave  Met !  Met  go  too !  Met  go  too !  Met  go  too  1  *" 

«*  But,  my  darling,  Met  can't  go  !  " 

u  I  will,  I  will,  I  will !  Lenny  love  Met !  Lenny  not 
leave  Met.  Met  go  too ! " 

u  But,  Met  cannot  go,"  remonstrated  the  father. 

**  Oh,  yes,  sir,  I  can,"  sobbed  Meg.    "  If  you  will  take 


394  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

him,  I  can  go,  if  you  will  let  me ;  and  I  will  be  a  faithful 
servant  to  him  all  my  life,  and  never  want  any  wages." 

"  Met  go  too !  Met  go  too ! "  sang  out  little  Lenny.  It 
was  the  chorus  of  the  song. 

"  But,  my  girl,  how  can  you  go  ?  I  would  willingly  re- 
ward you  for  the  care  you  must  have  bestowed  upon  my 
child,  who,  but  for  you,  might  have  perished  in  this  horri- 
ble place,  but  how  can  I  take  you  away  ?  you  have  par- 
ents or  guardians  who  must  be  consulted." 

Meg  left  off  crying,  and  laughed  aloud ; 

"  No,  sir ;  little  ladies  and  gentlemen  have  them  things, 
not  the  likes  of  us !  The  people  I  live  with  ain't  no  kin 
to  me,  though  I  do  call  the  men  uncle,  and  the  woman 
grarmain ;  I  am  only  their  drudge,  sir ;  I  am  free  to  go 
with  the  child;  if  you  will  let  me." 

"  Met  go  too !  Met  go  too  !  "  cried  the  little  despot,  be- 
ginning-now  to  scream  and  kick  with  impatience. 

He  had  not  been  used  to  have  his  will  crossed.  He  had 
been  accustomed  to  prompt  obedience  from  his  white 
slaves. 

"  I  see  that  you  are  *  a  chip  of  the  old  block,'  "  smiled 
Alexander. 

"  Met  go  too !  Met  go  too !  "  screamed  the  young  tyrant, 
making  his  feet  fly  with  such  velocity  that  they  looked 
like  a  drove  of  feet. 

Meanwhile,  Meg,  with  her  apron  to  her  eyes,  was  sob- 
bing violently.  A  scene  was  certainly  impending. 

"  I  think,  sir,  if  I  were  you  I  would  take  the  girl  along. 
I  think  well  of  her.  I  believe  her  account  of  herself  to  be 
true.  And  I  believe  it  would  be  a  good  work  to  take  her 
from  this  haunt  of  sin  and  misery — alas !  I  beg  your  par- 
don, I  had  forgotten  myself,  I  have  no  right  to  preach," 
said  the  poor  penitent,  bowing  his  head. 

"  I  will  take  her  at  your  word,  Everage ;  but,  good 
Heaven,  look  down  at  her  feet !  " 

"  Well,  they  are  not  cloven  ! "  said  the  poor  gentleman, 
with  a  sad  attempt  at  a  pleasantry.  "  Give  her  a  sovereign 
sir,  and  let  her  run  out  and  fit  herself  with  a  bonnet,  and 
shawl,  and  a  pair  of  shoes  and  stockings.  I'll  warrant 
she'll  do  it  all  in  twenty  minutes." 

"  I'll  do  it  in  less  time,  sir ;  indeed  I  will,  if  you'll  only 
let  me  go  with  little  Lenny  !  " 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  395 

"  Very  well ;  be  quick,"  said  Alexander,  handing  over 
a  sovereign. 

"  Oh,  please,  sir,  give  it  to  me  in  smaller  change.  If 
the  shopkeeper  was  to  see  the  likes  of  me  with  a  whole 
guvring  at  a  time,  they  would  stop  it,  and  send  for  the 
police,"  said  Meg. 

"  That  is  quite  likely,"  thought  Alick,  as  he  replaced  the 
offered  coin  in  his  purse,  and  then  gave  her  a  half  sover- 
eign in  gold,  and  a  half  in  silver  change. 

Meg  was  as  quick  as  her  word.  She  hurried  out,  and, 
in  fifteen  minutes  hurried  in,  equipped  for  her  ride.  It 
was  in  less  time  than  they  supposed  she  could  have  effected 
her  purchases. 

Then  she  took  Lenny  in  her  arms,  and  prepared  to  follow 
the  two  gentlemen. 

The  whole  party  went  down  Blood  Alley  towards  its  out- 
let upon  Bushe  Lane. 

Little  Lenny  laughed  and  patted  Meg's  cheeks,  and  prat- 
tled all  the  way. 

"  Going  to  see  Doosa,  Met !  Met  going  to  see  Doosa 
too !  "  Lenny  love  Met !  Lenny  not  leave  Met !  Met  going 
to  see  Doosa !  " 

When  they  reached  Bushe  Lane,  where  the  cab  was 
waiting,  the  astute  cabman,  looking  around  upon  the  party, 
said  to  himself : 

"  There — I  knew  it !  They've  caught  one  on  'em  ;  and 
what  a  young  sinner  to  be  the  mother  of  a  child  that  big !  " 

Everage  put  Meg  and  Lenny  into  the  cab,  and  then  fol- 
lowed with  Alexander. 

Lenny  was  still  full  of  joyous  babble. 

"  Wide  in  cawidge,  Met !  Met  wide  in  cawiclge  too !  "  he 
kept  saying,  as  he  patted  her  cheeks  and  kissed  her. 

"  They  should  never  be  separated,"  murmured  the  poor 
gentleman,  timidly,  as  if  speaking  to  himself. 

"  They  shall  not  be,  if  I  can  help  it,"  replied  Alexander 
who  had  read  with  approval  the  letter  of  recommendation 
contained  in  Meg's  face. 

They  drove  rapidly  up  Bushe  Lane,  through  Black 
street,  and  up  Blackfriars'  road.  But  little  conversation 
was  carried  on  until  they  reached  the  Strand. 

When  drawing  near  to  Wellington  street,  where  Everage 
lived,  he  said. 


396  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

But  you  will  not  take  the  child  to  his  mother  thU 
afternoon  ?  " 

tt  Certainly,"  replied  Alexander. 

"  What— now,  immediately  ?  " 

"Yes." 

«  Will  not  the  shock  be  too  great  ?  " 

**  No  ;  I  have  heard  that  she  is  almost  morbid  on  the 
subject,  and  is  constantly  looking  for  the  child,  and  e^pect- 
ing  to  find  him,  or  to  have  him  brought  home  to  her.  I 
also  had  a  sort  of  conviction  that  I  should  have  the  happi- 
ness of  finding  him  and  carrying  him  as  a  peace-offering  to 
his  mother.  It  was  a  very  remarkable  presentiment,  I 
think." 

"  Presentiments  when  believed  in,  often  fulfil  them- 
selves," said  Everage. 

"However  that  may  be,  I  so  firmly  believed  that  I 
should  find  the  child,  that  I  instructed  his  mother's  friends 
to  encourage  her  hopes  and  keep  up  her  expectations  of 
seeing  him,  so  that  when  I  should  bring  him  to  her,  she 
should  not  sustain  a  fatal  shock  of  joy." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  Wellington  street,  and 
at  the  request  of  Everage  the  cab  was  drawn  up. 

The  poor  gentleman  got  out. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Everage,"  said  Alexander ;  and 
holding  it,  he  added,  "I  shall  see  you  very  soon,  and 
remember,  you  are  to  have  that  Highland  property." 

Everage  pressed  the  hand  of  his  magnanimous  friend 
•with  a  look  more  eloquent  than  words,  and  then  turned 
•and  walked  rapidly  up  Wellington  street. 

"  Drive  on,"  said  Alexander. 

"  Where  now,  sir  ?  "  inquired  the  cabman,  touching  his 
hat. 

"  Morley  House,  Trafalgar  square." 

In  a  very  few  minutes  the  cab  drove  up  to  the  hotel 
and  stopped. 

One  of  the  servants  of  the  house,  seeing  Lord  Killcrich- 
toun's  face  at  the  window,  came  out  to  him. 

"  Do  you  know  if  Mr.  Hammond  is  in  the  house  just 
now  ?  "  inquired  Alexander. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  he  is  in  the  reading-room." 

**  Take  in  my  card  and  ask  him  if  he  will  do  me  the 
favor  to  come  out." 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  397 

The  waiter  vanished,  and  Dick  soon  made  his  appear- 
ance at  the  cab  door. 

"  Oh,  Dick !  I  have  found  him  !  "  exclaimed  Alick, 
pointing  to  the  child. 

"  Little  Lenny  !  Thank  God  !  "  cried  Dick,  jerking  open 
the  door,  jumping  into  the  cab,  and  seizing  little  Lenny 
and  seating  himself. 

"  Oh,  Dit !  Dit !  Lenny  tome  home  see  Doosa  !  Met 
tome  too  !  Lenny  wide  in  tab !  Met  wide  too !  Lenny 
not  leave  Met !  Lenny  love  Met ! " 

And  so  the  child  prattled  on,  patting  Dick's  cheeks, 
and  pulling  his  whiskers,  and  kissing  him. 

*  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !  Where  did  you  find  him,  Alick  ? 
How  was  it  ?  Tell  me  all  about  it !  " 

"Too  long  a  story,  Dick.  I  must  take  him  to  his 
mother.  Can  I  do  so  with  safety  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.  I  have  constantly  encouraged  her  hopes 
of  finding  the  child ;  and  yet  perhaps  it  would  be  well  to-1 
be  cautious.  I  will  just  step  up  and  prepare  her  a  little. 
I  will  tell  her  that  we  have  better  hopes  than  ever  of 
finding  her  child ;  and  that  we  have  heard  from  him,  and 
know  where  he  is ;  and  that  he  is  now  on  his  way  to  her, 
and  so  forth.  But  I  will  not  tell  her  that  you  are  bring- 
ing him.  I  will  leave  that  delight  to  yourself." 

"  Thank  you,  Dick.  Make  haste,  and  don't  be  gone  a 
moment  longer  than  necessary." 

"  I  will  come  back  as  soon  as  possible,"  said  Dick  as  he 
disappeared. 

"  See  Doosa !  see  Doosa  !  "  exclaimed  little  Lenny  im- 
patiently. 

"  Yes,  my  boy,  you  shall  see  Doosa,  Dick  has  gone  to 
look  for  Doosa  and  tell  her,"  said  Alexander. 

"Dit  done  look  for  Doosa?" 

"  Yes,  my  darling." 

So  Lenny  prattled  on. 

Dick  was  gone  rather  longer  than  was  expected,  but  at 
length  he  returned. 

"  You  can  go  to  her  now.  I  have  led  her  to  expect 
that  a  gentleman  from  Jersey  has  found  the  child,  and 
is  on  his  way  home  with  him,  and  that  he  may  arrive  by 
any  train  now.  The  news  has  made  her  very  happy,  as 
you  may  judge.  And  now  you  may  go  up  to  her.  Sbe 
is  alone  in  her  chamber." 


398  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

"Thanks,  Dick!  many  thanks  for  your  kindness 
Come,  Meg,"  said  Alick,  stepping  out  upon  the  sidewalk. 

Meg  followed  with  little  Lenny  in  her  arms. 

"You  must  come  and  show  me  her  room,  Dick,"  said 
Alick. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Hammond. 

The  whole  party  entered  the  house  and  passed  up- 
stairs 

When  they  arrived  at  the  door  of  Drusilla's  chamber, 
Alick  took  little  Lenny  in  his  arms  and  said  : 

"  I  must  enter  alone.  Dick,  be  so  good  as  to  take  this 
girl  to  your  wife  and  tell  her  that  she  is  to  be  an  under 
nurse-maid  or  something  of  the  sort.  After  I  have  seen 
Drusilla  we  will  attend  to  the  girl's  case." 

"  Very  well,  Alick.  Heaven  speed  you,"  said  Dick, 
beckoning  to  Meg,  who  followed  him  meekly,  and  mov- 
ing towards  Anna's  room. 

«  Where  Met  gone  ?  where  Met  gone  ? "  impatiently 
demanded  Lenny. 

"  Met  has  gone  to  see  Anna,"  answered  Alexander. 

"  Met  tome  back  soon  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  will  come  back  soon." 

"  Met  go  see  Doosa  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Met  go  see  Doosa  too.  Now,  Lenny,  be  a  good, 
quiet  boy.  We  are  going  to  see  Doosa." 

"  Lenny  be  good  boy  den." 

"  And  mind,  you  must  be  very,  very  still.  You  must 
not  jump  and  kick  and  scream  ;  if  you  do  you  will  hurt 
Doosa,"  said  Alexander,  looking  very  gravely  into  the 
child's  face. 

"  Lenny  be  good  boy !  Lenny  not  hurt  Doosa,"  an- 
swerd  the  child  with  owlet-like  solemnity. 

Still  Alick  paused  at  the  door.  How  many  minutes  he 
paused  before  he  could  sufficiently  compose  himself  for 
the  joyous  trial  before  him.  But  then  he  had  not  yet  re- 
covered from  the  effects  of  his  wound. 

At  length,  with  a  prayer  in  his  heart,  he  opened  the 
door  so  softly  as  not  to  disturb  the  inmate  of  the  room. 

She  was  sitting  at  the  window,  with  her  elbow  resting 
on  its  sill,  and  her  head  bowed  upon  her  hand.  How 
worn  and  wan  she  looked !  Her  face  was  scarcely  less 
white  than  the  snowy  robe  she  wore.  Her  face  was 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  399 

turned  partly  towards  the  window,  and  had  an  anxious, 
listening  look,  as  if  constantly  watching  for  the  coming 
of  some  beloved  and  long-expected  one. 

As  soon  as  little  Lenny  saw  his  mother,  he  forgot  all 
his  promises,  and  sang  out  with  all  the  strength  of  his 
baby  lungs : 

"  Doosa  !  Doosa !     See  Lenny  tome  home !  " 

She  turned  her  head  quickly,  screamed,  and  started  up 
to  meet  him  ;  but  overwhelmed  with  emotion,  sank  back 
again  into  her  chair  and  gasped  for  breath. 

"Hush,  hush,  my  boy;  see  you  have  hurt  Doosa";  be 
very  good  now !  "  whispered  Alexander  in  a  tone  that 
awed  the  child  into  silence. 

Then  he  crossed  the  room,  knelt  at  her  feet,  and  said : 

"  My  wife,  I  have  no  word  to  say  for  myself.  Let  our 
child  plead  for  me." 

And  he  laid  little  Lenny  on  her  lap. 

"  No,  there  was  no  scene  that  could  be  fully  reported 
here. 

Husband  and  child,  both  restored  to  her  in  an  instant ! 
It  is  a  wonder  she  had  not  died  then  and  there  !  But  she 
did  not  even  faint.  Heaven,  that  had  sustained  her 
through  such  long-drawn-out,  unutterable  sorrows,  gave 
her  strength  now  to  meet  the  sudden  shock  of  joy. 

She  gently  put  little  Lenny  aside  for  a  moment,  where 
the  child,  still  awed  into  silence,  stood  quietly. 

She  stooped  and  fell  upon  her  Alick's  neck  and  clasped 
him  to  her ;  she  wept  over  him  in  ecstasy ;  she  kissed 
him  again  and  again,  sobbing  words  of  the  fondest  endear- 
ment— sacred  words  not  to  be  written  here. 

Lenny  looked  on  in  wonder  and  awe  for  some  time  ;  but 
at  last  his  impatience  overcame  every  other  emotion,  and 
he  sang  out : 

«  Me,  too !  Me,  too  !  Me,  too  !  'Top  it,  Doosa !  Tate 
Lenny  up ! " 

Alick,  with  a  face  radiant  with  joy,  once  more  snatched 
up  the  chlid,  and  kissed  him  rapturously,  and  put  him  in 
his  mother's  arms,  saying : 

"  Tell  him  who  I  am,  darling  wife !  Tell  him  who  I 
am!" 

"  Does  he  not  know  ? "  inquired  Drusilla,  who  was 
covering  her  child  with  caresses. 


400  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

<*  No.     I  never  felt  that  I  had  any  right  to  tell  him." 

**  Lenny,  love,  do  you  know  who  that  gentleman  is?" 
she  asked,  looking  fondly  at  the  child  and  then  at  the 
father. 

"  Ess  I  do !  he  bring  Lenny  home  to  Doosa,"  answered 
the  boy. 

"  Look  at  him,  Lenny.     He  is  your  papa." 

"Lenny's  popper?"  inquired  the  baby  looking  with 
great  eyes  at  the  stranger,  who  had  now  taken  on  a  new 
interest  for  him. 

"  Yes,"  softly  answered  his  mother. 

w  Lenny  dot  popper  too  f  " 

At  this  innocent  question,  in  which  so  much  was  ex- 
pressed, Alexander,  again  conscience-stricken,  turned 
•away  his  head  to  hide  the  tears  that  rushed  to  his  eyes. 

But  for  all  reply,  Brasilia  stooped  and  kissed  her  child 
and  handed  him  back  to  his  father. 

The  reconciliation  was  perfect. 

Later,  they  went  into  the  drawing-room,  to  which  Dick 
brought  Anna  and  General  Lyon  all  of  whom,  amid  tears 
and  caresses,  offered  their  earnest  congratulations  to  the 
reunited  pair ;  and  rejoiced  with  an  exceeding  great  joy 
over  the  restoration  of  little  Lenny. 

But  all  this  was  nothing  to  the  frantic  delight  of 
Pina  when  she  heard  little  Lenny  had  been  found.  She 
ran  to  him,  she  snatched  him  up,  kissed  him  and  hugged 
him,  and  laughed  and  cried  over  him  to  such  a  degree 
that  even  Master  Leonard,  who  could  bear  a  great  deal  of 
that  sort  of  thing,  was  obliged  to  order  her  to 

"  'Top  it." 

And  then  she  ceased,  and  bore  him  off  to  dress  him  in 
all  his  finery  for  dinner. 

"Yes,  the  reconciliation  was  perfect.  And  as  it  very 
seldom  happens  that  any  human  being  suffers  as  Drusilla 
had  suffered,  so,  also,  it  falls  to  the  lot  of  very  few  to  be 
so  happy  as  she  was  that  evening  and  ever  thereafter. 

She  never  learned  the  true  history  of  little  Lenny's  ab- 
duction. She  was  left  to  believe  in  the  policeman's 
theory  that  the  child  had  been  stolen  by  thieves  for  the 
sake  of  the  jewelry  on  his  person.  She  was  told,  how- 
ever, of  Meg's  cherishing  care  of  her  baby,  and  she  saw 
for  herself  the  strong  attachment  existing  between  them ; 


THE  PEACE-OFFERING.  401 

and  so  she  appointed  Meg  under  nurse-maid,  and  fitted 
her  out  with  a  decent  wardrobe.  As  to  Meg's  "  parents 
and  guardians,"  the  thieves  of  Blood  Alley,  they  were  left 
to  their  own  conjectures  on  the  subject  of  her  absence, 
and  they  probably  came  to  just  conclusions,  and  being  in 
possession  of  their  ill-got  money,  were  also  probably  sat- 
isfied. 

What  else  ? 

Clarence  Everage,  the  sincerely  repentant  sinner  whom 
misery  had  tempted  to  crime  for  which  nature  had  never 
intended  him,  and  whom  conscience  had  afterwards  con- 
strained to  confession  and  restitution — Clarence  Everage, 
the  poor,  proud  gentleman,  the  oppressed  public  school 
drudge — was  put  in  possession  of  the  Highland  estate, 
and  he  became  Everage  of  Killcrichtoun. 

Alexander  advanced  the  funds  to  make  the  house  hab- 
itable and  the  land  arable. 

In  the  bracing  air  of  the  mountains  his  fading  wife,  and 
pale  little  daughters  grew  rosy  and  happy,  well  and 
strong.  Everage  also  recovered  his  health  and  good 
looks,  but  never  regained  the  raven  hues  of  his  hair. 
And  when  his  wife  or  any  friend  would  suggest  that  it 
was  perfectly  proper  so  young  a  man — so  prematurely 
gray — should  dye  his  hair,  he  would  shake  his  head  with 
a  melancholy  smile  and  say  : 

"  No,  no !  I  wear  my  gray  locks  hi  memory  of  a  great 
temptation  and  a  great  fault,  that  might  have  been  a  fatal 
one  but  for  the  Lord's  goodness." 

No  one,  not  even  his  wife,  knew  what  he  meant.  And 
no  one  ventured  to  ask  him.  They  saw  that  the  matter 
was  a  sacred  confidence  between  himself  and  his  Creator, 
with  which  none  might  intermeddle. 

In  truth,  nobody  ever  knew  all  the  circumstances  of 
little  Lenny's  abduction  except  those  immediately  con- 
cerned in  it.  Alexander  had  been  generous  in  his  recov- 
ered happiness,  and  had  spared  the  name  and  fame  of 
the  poor  gentleman. 

The  Lyon  family,  of  which  little  Lenny  was  the  great- 
est lion  of  all,  did  not  immediately  return  to  their  own 
country.  They  made  the  tour  of  Europe,  and  worked 
hard  at  it,  and  so  they  saw  about  one  trillionth  part  of 
what  was  worth  seeing. 
26 


4:02  THE  BRIDE'S  FATE. 

They  were  accompanied  by  the  Seymours  and  by  Fran- 
cis  Tredegar. 

At  the  end  of  a  year  they  went  back  to  America,  and 
down  into  Virginia. 

Soon  after  their  arrival  several  important  family  events 
occurred. 

First,  Drusilla  presented  little  Lenny  with  a  little  sis- 
ter, who  was  named  Annette,  and  who  became  his  espe- 
cial delight. 

Next,  Anna  became  the  mother  of  a  fine  boy,  to  the 
direct  controverting  of  the  gipsy  fortune-teller's  predic- 
tion, which  had  promised  her  only  girls. 

And  finally,  Nanny  Seymour  and  Francis  Tredegar  were 
married  ;  and  the  young  couple,  after  a  prolonged  bridal 
tour,  took  up  their  abode  with  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Seymour. 

Pina  made  Jacob  inexpressibly  happy  by  accepting  the 
dusky  hand  and  honest  heart  of  that  "gorilla."  Her 
place  being  made  vacant  by  her  marriage  was  well  filled 
by  Meg,  now  grown  to  be  a  pretty  civilized-looking  young 
woman,  and  promoted  to  be  head  of  the  nursery  at  Crew 
Wood. 

When  I  last  heard  of  these  friends  of  ours,  General 
Lyon  was  still  living,  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  hale  and 
happy  age,  at  Old  Lyon  Hall,  surrounded  by  Anna  and 
Dick  and  their  children,  who  made  their  home  with  him. 
And  Hammond  Hall  was  kept  in  good  order  by  a  steward 
and  a  housekeeper.  And  in  the  fishing  season,  the  family, 
with  a  party  of  friends,  usually  occupy  it  for  a  few  weeks. 
And  there,  as  well  as  at  Old  Lyon  Hall,  they  are  often 
joined  by  Alexander  and  Drusilla. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alexander  Lyon  live  chiefly  at  Crew 
Wood,  where  they  spend  their  days  in  doing  good,  and 
in  rearing  their  beautiful  young  family. 

Their  other  country  seat,  Cedar  Wood  Cottage,  is  still 
in  the  care  of  "  Mammy"  and  her  "  old  man."  And  every 
winter  Alick  and  Drusilla,  with  their  children,  go  there 
to  be  near  Washington  in  the  season.  And  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hammond  and  General  Lyon  come  to  them.  The  old 
General  never  loses  his  interest  in  what  is  going  on  at 
the  capital. 

THE    END. 


Good  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  series  of  romances  containing  several  of  the  old  favorites  in  the  6e!tf 
of  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerful  romances  of  love  and  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing  interest 


A  COLONIAL  FREE-LANCE.  A  story  of  American  Colonial  Times.  Bj 
Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss.  Cloth,  izmo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watsoo 
Oavis.  Price,  Ji.oo. 

A  book  that  appeals  to  Americans  as  a  vivid  picture  of  Revolutionary 
scenes.  The  story  is  a  strong  one,  a  thrilling  one.  It  causes  the  tru* 
American  to  flush  with  excitement,  to  devour  chapter  after  chapter,  until 
the  eyes  smart,  and  it  fairly  smokes  with  patriotism.  The  love  story  is  * 
Singularly  charming  idyL 

THE  TOWER  OF  LONDON.  A  Historical  Romance  of  the  Times  of  Lady 
Jane  Grey  and  Mary  Tudor.  By  Wm.  Harrison  Ainsworth.  Cloth,  12010.  with 
four  illustrations  by  George  Cruikshank.  Price,  $1 .00. 

This  romance  of  the  "Tower  of  London"  depicts  the  Tower  as  palace, 
prison  and  fortress,  with  many  historical  associations.  The  era  is  the 
middle  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

The  story  is  divided  into  two  parts,  one  dealing  with  Lady  Jane  Grey, 
and  the  other  with  Mary  Tudor  as  Queen,  introducing  other  notable  char- 
acters of  the  era.  Throughout  the  story  holds  the  interest  of  the  reader 
In  the  midst  of  Intrigue  and  conspiracy,  extending  considerably  over  a 
half  a  century. 

IN  DEFIANCE  OF  THE  KINO.  A  Romance  of  the  American  Revolution. 
By  Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss.  Cloth,  12010.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson 
Itevis.  Price,  f  i.oo. 

Mr.  Hotchkiss  has  etched  in  burning  words  a  story  of  Yankee  bravery, 
and  true  love  that  thrills  from  beginning  to  end,  with  the  spirit  of  the 
Revolution.  The  heart  beats  quickly,  and  we  feel  ourselves  taking  a 
part  in  the  exciting  scenes  described.  Hte  whole  story  is  so  absorbing 
that  you  will  sit  up  far  into  the  night  to  finish  it.  As  a  love  romaac* 
It  is  charming. 

GARTHOWEN.  A  story  of  a  Welsh  Homestead.  By  Allen  Raine.  Ctoth, 
t«no.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson  Davis.  Price,  $1.00. 

"This  is  a  little  idyl  of  humble  life  and  enduring  love,  laid  bare  before 
tut,  very  real  and  pure,  which  in  its  telling  shows  us  some  strong  points  of 
Welsh  character— the  pride,  the  hasty  temper,  the  quick  dying  out  of  wrath. 
.  .  .  We  call  this  a  well-written  story,  interesting  alike  through  iu 
romance  and  its  glimpses  into  another  life  than  ours.  A  delightful  an4 
clever  picture  of  Welsh  village  life.  The  result  is  excellent."— Detroit  Fre» 
Frees. 

1HFANWY.  The  story  of  a  Welsh  Singer.  By  Allan  Raine.  Cloth, 
umo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson  Davis.  Price,  f  1.00. 

"This  is  a  love  story,  staple,  tender  and  pretty  as  one  would  care  t* 
read.  The  action  throughout  is  brisk  and  pleasing;  the  characters.  It  is  ap- 
parent at  once,  are  as  true  to  life  as  though  the  author  had  known  them 
all  personally.  Simple  in  all  its  situations,  the  story  is  worked  up  In  that 
touching  and  quaint  strain  which  never  grows  wearisome,  no  matter  Hunt 
.often  the  lights  and  shadows  of  love  are  introduced.  It  rings  true,  an4 
•does  not  tax  the  imagination." — Boston  Herald. 

Vtor  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  pub 
liahen.  A.  L.  BUST  COMPANY,  52-58  Duane  St..  New  York. 


Good  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  series  of  romances  containing  several  of  the  old  favorites  in  the  field 
•f  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerful  romances  of  love  and  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing  interest. 


DARNLEY.  A  Romance  of  the  times  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Cardinal  Woteey. 
By  G.  P.  R.  James.  Cloth,  iamo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson  Davis. 
Price,  Ji.00. 

In  point  of  publication,  "Daraley"  Is  that  work  by  Mr.  James  which 
follows  "Richelieu,"  and,  If  rumor  can  be  credited,  it  was  owing  to  the  ad- 
vice and  insistence  of  our  own  Washington  Irving  that  we  are  indebted 
primarily  for  the  story,  the  young  author  queet'onlng  whether  he  could 
properly  paint  the  difference  IB  the  characters  of  the  two  great  cardinals. 
And  it  Is  not  surprising  that  James  should  have  hesitated;  he  had  been 
eminently  successful  in  giving  to  the  world  the  portrait  of  Richelieu  as  a 
man,  and  by  attempting  a  similar  task  with  Wolsey  as  the  theme,  waa 
much  like  tempting  fortune.  Irving  insisted  that  "Darnley"  came  natur- 
ally in  sequence,  and  this  opinion  being  supported  by  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
the  author  s»t  about  the  work. 

As  a  historical  romance  "Darnley"  is  a  book  that  can  be  taken  up 
pleasurably  again  and  again,  for  there  is  about  it  that  subtle  charm  which 
those  who  are  strangers  to  the  works  of  G.  P.  R.  James  have  claimed  wa» 
only  to  be  Imparted  by  Dumas. 

If  there  was  nothing  more  about  the  work  to  attract  especial  attention, 
the  account  of  the  meeting  of  the  kings  on  the  historic  "field  of  the  cloth  of 
Cold"  would  entitle  the  story  to  the  most  favorable  consideration  of  every 
wader. 

There  is  really  but  little  pure  romance  in  this  story,  for  the  author  has 
taken  care  to  imagine  love  passages  only  between  those  whom  history  ha* 
credited  with  having  entertained  the  tender  passion  one  for  another,  and 
k«  succeeds  in  making  such  lovers  as  all  the  world  must  love. 

CAPTAIN  BRAND,  OP  THE  SCHOONER  CENTIPEDE.  By  Went. 
Henry  A,  Wise,  U.S.  N.  (Harry  Gringo).  Cloth,  izmo.  with  four  illustra- 
tions by  J.  Watson  Davk.  Price,  $1.00. 

The  re-publication  of  thla  story  will  please  those  lovers  of  sea  yarn* 
•who  delight  in  so  much  of  the  salty  flavor  of  the  ocean  as  can  come  through 
the  medium  of  a  printed  page,  for  never  has  a  story  of  the  sea  and  those 
"who  go  down  in  ships"  been  written  by  one  more  familiar  with  the  scene* 
depicted. 

The  one  book  of  this  gifted  author  which  is  best  remembered,  and  which 
•will  be  read  with  pleasure  for  many  years  to  come,  is  "Captain  Brand," 
who,  as  the  author  states  on  his  title  page,  was  a  "pirate  of  eminence  in 
the  West  Indies."  As  a  sea  story  pure  and  simple,  "Captain  Brand"  has 
never  been  excelled,,  and  as  a  story  of  piratical  life,  told  without  the  usual 
embellishments  of  blood  and  thunder,  it  has  no  equal. 

NICK  OP  THE  WOODS.  A  story  of  the  Early  Settlers  of  Kentucky.  By 
Robert  Montgomery  Bird.  Cloth,  izmo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson 
Davis.  Price,  $1.00. 

Thla  most  popular  novel  and  thrilling  story  of  early  frontier  life  in 
Kentucky  was  originally  published  in  the  year  1837.  The  novel,  long  out  of 
print,  bad  in  its  day  a  phenomenal  sale,  for  its  realistic  presentation  of 
Indian  and  frontier  life  in  the  early  days  of  settlement  in  the  South,  nar- 
rated in  the  tale  with  all  the  art  of  a  practiced  writer.  A  very  charming 
love  romance  runs  through  the  story.  This  new  and  tasteful  edition  of 
"Nick  of  the  Woods"  will  be  certain  to  make  many  new  admirers  for 
this  enchanting  story  from  Dr.  Bird's  clever  and  versatile  pen. 

ftar  sale  "by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  pub- 
lishers, A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  59-58  Duaae  St.,  New  York. 


Good  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  series  of  romances  containing  several  of  the  old  favorite*  in  the  field 
»f  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerfu.  .  omances  of  love  and  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing  interest. 


GUY  FAWKES.  A  Romance  of  the  Gunpowder  Treason.  By  Win.  Harri- 
son Ainsworth.  Cloth,  izmo.  with  four  illustrations  by  George  Cruikshank. 
Price,  fi.oo. 

The  "Gunpowder  Plot"  was  a  modest  attempt  to  blow  up  Parliament, 
the  King  and  his  Counsellors.  James  of  Scotland,  then  King  of  England. 
•was  weak-minded  and  extravagant.  He  hit  upon  the  efficient  scheme  ot 
extorting  money  from  the  people  by  Imposing  taxes  on  the  Catholics.  la 
their  natural  resentment  to  this  extortion,  a  handful  of  bold  spirits  con* 
eluded  to  overthrow  the  government.  Finally  the  plotters  were  arrested. 
And  the  King  put  to  torture  Guy  Fawkes  and  the  other  prisoners  witls 
royal  vigor.  A  ver>  intense  love  story  runs  through  the  entire  romance. 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  BORDER.  A  Romance  of  the  Early  Settlers  in  the 
Ohio  Valley.  By  Zane  Grey.  Cloth,  12100.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watso» 

Davis.    Price,  J i. oa 

A  book  rather  out  of  the  ordinary  Is  this  "Spirit  of  the  Border."  Th« 
main  thread  of  the  story  has  to  do  with  the  work  of  the  Moravian  mis- 
sionaries in  the  Ohio  Valley.  Incidentally  th»  reader  is  given  details  of  th« 
frontier  life  of  those  hardy  pioneers  who  broke  the  wilderness  for  the  plant- 
ing ot  this  great  nation.  Chief  among  these,  as  a  matter  of  course.  Is 
Lewis  Wetzel,  one  of  the  most  peculiar,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most 
admirable  of  all  the  brave  men  who  spent  their  lives  battling  with  th« 
•avage  foe,  that  others  might  dwell  in  comparative  security. 

Details  of  the  establishment  and  destruction  of  the  Moravian  "Village 
«f  Peace"  are  given  at  some  length,  and  with  minute  description.  The 
efforts  to  Christianize  the  Indians  are  described  as  they  never  have  been 
Isefore,  and  the  author  has  depicted  the  characters  of  the  leaders  of  the 
several  Indian  tribes  with  great  care,  which  of  itself  will  be  of  interest  to 
the  student. 

By  no  means  least  among  the  charms  of  the  story  are  the  vlvfd  word- 
pictures  of  the  thrilling  adventures,  and  the  Intense  paintings  of  the  beau- 
ties  of  nature,  as  seen  in  the  almost  unbroken  forests. 

It  Is  the  spirit  of  the  frontier  which  is  described,  and  one  can  by  It 
perhaps,  the  better  understand  why  men,  and  women,  too,  willingly  braved 
•very  privation  and  danger  that  the  westward  progress  of  the  star  of  em- 
pire might  be  the  more  certain  and  rapid.  A  love  story,  simple  and  tender, 
runs  through  the  book. 

RICHELIEU.  A  tale  of  France  in  the  reign  of  King  I/ntis  XTIL  By  G.  P. 
H.  James.  Cloth,  izmo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Wateon  Davis.  Price,  fi.ooc 

In  MJ9  Mr.  James  published  his  first  romance,  "Richelieu."  and  wan 
recognized  a-t  once  as  one  of  the  masters  of  the  craft. 

In  this  book  he  laid  the  story  during  those  later  days  of  the  great  car- 
dinal's life,  when  his  power  was  beginning  to  wane,  but  while  it  was 
yet  sufficiently  strong  to  permit  now  and  then  of  volcanic  outbursts  which 
overwhelmed  foes  and  carried  friends  to  the  topmost  wave  of  prosperity. 
One  of  Uie  most  striking  portions  of  the  story  is  that  of  Cinq  Mar's  consplr- 
Acv  the  method  of  conducting  criminal  cases,  and  the  political  trickery 
resorted  to  by  royal  favorites,  affording  a  better  insight  into  the  state- 
craft of  that  day  than  can  be  had  even  by  an  exhaustive  study  of  history. 
It  is  a  powerful  romance  of  love  and  diplomacy,  and  In  point  of  thrilling 
and  absorbing  interest  has  never  been  excelled. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  pofc. 
Ushers.  A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  52-58  Duaoe  St.,  New  York. 


Good  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  series  of  romances  containing  several  of  the  old  favorites  in  the  field 
of  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerful  romances  of  love  and  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing:  interest. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  A  Historical  Romance  of  the  Reign*>f  Henry  VTIl.. 
Catharine  of  Aragon  and  Anne  Boleyn.  By  \Vm.  Harrison  Ainsworth.  Cloth, 
umo.  with  four  illustrations  by  George  Cruikshank.  Price,  Ji.oo. 

"Windsor  Castle"  is  the  story  of  Henry  VIII.,  Catharine,  and  Ann* 
Boleyn.  "Bluff  King  Hal."  although  a  well-loved  monarch,  was  none  too 
rood  a  one  in  many  ways.  Of  all  his  selfishness  and  unwarrantable  acts, 
none  was  more  discreditable  than  his  divorce  from  Catharine,  and  his  mar- 
Hage  to  the  beautiful  Anne  Boleyn.  The  King's  love  was  as  brief  as  it 
was  vehement.  Jane  Seymour,  waiting  maid  on  the  Queen,  attracted  him. 
and  Anne  Boleyn  was  forced  to  the  block  to  make  room  for  her  successor. 
This  romance  is  one  of  extreme  interest  to  all  readers. 

HORSESHOE  ROBINSON.  A  tale  of  the  Tory  Ascendency  in  South  Caro- 
lina in  1780.  By  John  P.  Kennedy.  Cloth,  izmo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J. 
Watson  Davis,  Price,  Ji.oo. 

Among  the  old  favorite*  In  the  field  of  what  is  known  as  historical  fic- 
tion, there  are  none  which  appeal  to  a  larger  number  of  Americans  taan 
Horseshoe  Robinson,  and  this  because  it  is  the  only  story  wmch  depict* 
with  fidelity  to  the  facts  the  heroic  efforts  of  the  colonists  in  South  Caro- 
lina to  defend  their  homes  against  the  brutal  oppression  of  the  British 
under  such  leaders  as  Cornwallis  and  Tarleton. 

The  reader  is  charmed  with  the  story  of  love  which  forms  the  thread 
of  the  tale,  and  then  impressed  with  the  wealth  of  detail  concerning  those 
times.  The  picture  of  the  manifold  sufferings  of  the  people,  is  never  over- 
drawn, but  painted  faithfully  and  honestly  by  one  who  spared  neither 
time  nor  labor  in  his  efforts  to  present  In  this  charming  love  story  all  that 
price  in  blood  and  tears  which  the  Carolinians  paid  as  their  share  In  the 
winning  of  the  republic. 

Take  It  all  in  all,  "Horseshoe  Robinson"  is  a  work  which  should  be 
found  on  every  book-shelf,  not  only  because  it  is  a  most  entertaining 
story,  but  because  of  the  wealth  of  valuable  information  concerning  the 
colonists  which  it  contains.  That  it  has  been  brought  out  once  more,  well 
illustrated,  is  something  which  will  give  pleasure  to  thousands  who  have 
long  desired  an  opportunity  to  read  the  story  again,  and  to  the  many  who 
have  tried  vainly  in  these  latter  days  to  procure  a  copy  that  they  might 
read  It  for  the  first  time. 

THE  PEARL.  OP  ORE'S  ISLAND.  A  story  of  the  Coast  of  Maine.  By 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe.  Cloth,  i2mo.  Illustrated.  Price,  Ji.oo. 

Written  prior  to  18*2,  the  "Pearl  of  Orr's  Island"  is  ever  new;  a  book 
filled  with  delicate  fancies,  such  as  seemingly  array  themselves  anew  each 
time  one  reads  them.  One  sees  the  "sea  like  an  unbroken  mirror  all 
•round  the  pine-girt,  lonely  shores  of  Orr's  Island,"  and  straightway 
comes  "the  heavy,  hollow  moan  of  the  surf  on  the  beach,  like  the  wild 
angry  howl  of  some  savage  animal." 

Who  can  read  of  the  beginning  of  that  sweet  life,  named  Mara,  which 
came  into  this  world  under  the  very  shadow  of  the  Death  angel's  wings. 
•without  having  an  intense  desire  to  know  how  the  premature  bud  blos- 
somed? Again  and  again  one  lingers  over  the  descriptions  of  the  char- 
acter of  that  baby  boy  Moses,  who  came  through  the  tempest,  amid  the 
angry  billows,  pillowed  on  his  dead  mother's  breast 

There  is  no  more  faithful  portrayal  of  New  England  life  than  that 
which  Mrs.  Stowe  gives  in  "The  Pearl  of  Orr's  Island." 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  poJ> 
nshers,  A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  52-58  Duane  St.,  New  York. 


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